Wotcher...daddy come home.

Apparently I'm doomed to make comments more or less every other holiday, which is...you know, okay I guess. But I digress:

Unsurprisingly, mother's day was uneventful; got up early, moseyed on to my parents' home, invited me mam to an expensive restaurant, gave 'er a gift an' some flowers...

Got into a lovingly sweet row over some stupid conversational shite.

All in a day's work, really; nothin' that don't happen every mother's day. That's how we usually celebrate, and given our ethnicity, I'm surprised we even talk to each other to this day.

Somethin' strikes me as funny though...

We usually fall all over our arses come May 10th; tryin' to prove we're "good sons & daughters", you see, we try to prove we don't suck so much at this "being progeny" thing.

And then of course, in comes May 11th and we're back to being arseholes. Not everyone, of course, but in a way this is one of those "feel good" holidays, pretty much like christmas, where our good will and behavior lasts all of 24 hours, and once we're not "morally obliged" to be good anymore, we become soulless urbanites once more; jaded, cynical and what have you. And today's "feminist-extremists" do not make for a more friendly environment, if anything, a significant portion of these women feel it's their sacred duty to deride and ridicule motherhood...and men of course.

Because, you see, the only way a woman is worth anything is if she's got a fancy college degree. Then and only then are women actually productive members of society, and thus have realized their true potential, otherwise, they're just perpetuating the dominance of the chauvinistic male oinker. Sacrilege!

On the flipside we got the true chauvinistic oinker, the one who believes housework is a sworn duty, and not equal to an office job, you see, because a housewife does light work and stays on her arse all day watchin' television, and that's totally unfair for the hard workin' husband who "busts his ass" all day in the office...sittin' in his comfy chair and barking orders all day long, and maybe sneakin' a shag or two with the secretary, if there is time.

And in the middle of these two heavily retarded factions are the housewives themselves; pardon if they do not participate in the bullshitting sessions, but they're a bit busy; what with the taking care of children, cleaning, wiping, dusting, sweeping, vaccuming, cooking, administering the house finances, taking children to school, picking up children from school, giving advice, buying groceries, and at night when "hubby dearest" gets home, they got to play "french maid whore" for him...because "What he don't find at home, he'll seek on the streets". So as you can see, our good friends, the housewives don't get a cushy lunch hour so they can bullshit around the watercooler and plead their case.

So I'd say most mothers have enough on their plate to (on top of it all) get derided and pitied upon by your garden variety emancipated libertarian paramilitary Office Dyke or Man-Eating Nympho bitch.

I'd venture a guess that maybe we should respect some people's life choices...and the people themselves.

Most mothers do a thankless selfless job, carry a tremendous burden for 20 or 30 years, and when they're done they don't get a retirement fund or an "employee of the month" plaque on the wall. In fact some of them, just get a boot up the arse and get sent to retirement homes, or have their children disappear from them and have to fend for themselves in their twilight years.

So yeah, maybe we should just contextualize mother's day as something a little bit more meaningful than the usual Hallmark greeting card shite and let it just be a reminder of who exactly took care of us when we got the mumps, the measles, or the pox all those years ago, not to mention, she probably fell sick right after you got better...and she still did all the housework and drove you to school without missing a beat.

"I have no mother, I was raised by wolves...two male, gay wolves."
--Oscar Wilde on mother's day.


Special Postscript, brought to ye land dogs by the Church Of The Flying Spaghetti Monster:





Yarrrr!!! Witty Jack be back...but me money be on that scurvy dog Barbossa. Watch this movie or suffer HIS Noodly Wrath, ye disgusting land lubbers.