Mother's Day

When my brother and I were young bucks my father would gather us together on Mother’s Day and solemnly ask us to “please be nice to your mother today.” I find that funny now; what the fuck could we have been doing that would warrant such a request? I would guess having 2 hyper-rambunctious boys was exhausting and would drive anybody crazy, but I’m pretty sure we weren’t mean to her...I don’t ever remember thinking “you know, we should steal money from Mom and then tell everyone she’s a smack addict.” But every year, we’d get the “please be nice to your mother for once” chat on Mother’s Day. Then the day would fold out as any other day: my mother would talk nonstop while my father nodded his head while reading and my brother and I would desperately see how much closer we could come to accidentally killing ourselves than we had the day before. “Xmas, let’s get the top of this well off and take a look inside...” Everyday when we’d come in for dinner, I’m sure we had that “boy, THAT was a close one...” look on our faces.

But now, Mother’s Day, if I’m reading my internet ads and seeing my tv commercials correctly, seems to be about one thing: selling Teddy Bears. Have you seen these? At Vermont Teddy Bear. All the rage now, every Mother’s Day. But some seem, to me anyways, borderline inappropriate/creepy. Like this one:





“Ooooh, Mommy.....let’s play Nurse!” Yeesh. Hey, we’ve all read the Penthouse Forums where the double amputee gets a “spongebath” from the overly-buxom night nurse; is this really appropriate for your mom? “You be Nurse, I’ll be wounded flyboy...they shot me in the groin!”


Or this one:


Hmm. I’m sure Mom won’t be creeped out by you thinking of her in some hip-hugging, satin panties. Mmmmm, tasty. Maybe she’s been in a coma for 30 years and has no idea that Wonder Woman has been every boys’ jerk-off fantasy. Thank you, son. And what the fuck is that key for, her chastity belt?? Wtf??!!





Ooooh, here’s Mama and her “friend” about to hit the local biker bar in their leathers....hmm....yeah, she’s not coming home wasted to bang against your bedroom wall to the strains of ZZ Top with some scumbag you went to high school with...ugh.






And here’s one Mom will love....”You’re constantly getting pregnant with Dad’s gross dick, why don’t you stuff your face some more you fat barefoot slob?” Nice.






Who’s buying these things? I mean camon....some flowers, a nice hug, maybe thank her for teaching you to french kiss when you were 13, and move on. Enough with the creepy bears!