This one's for all the mothers out there.

So you've got your own holiday. How nice.

Hallmark is going to make assloads of money this year selling cards to hordes of morons who'll line up to patronize your worthless asses while attempting to gloss over the fact that breeders are the lowest form of social leprosy.

I assign blame for the overpopulation crisis to mothers far more than to fathers. A mother, after all, has the ultimate choice over whether or not to terminate the pregnancy. And if the dumb cow were actually intelligent enough to use birth control in the first place, she wouldn't be a mother at all. But that's too much to ask from someone who possesses the intelligence of roadkill.

And because you're a mother, there's doubtless a father in the woodpile. Not that you actually know who he is, but he's there somewhere. Somebody had to contribute the savagely damaged DNA it took to breed your hideous little brats.

Oh, sure, Mr. Sperm Donor will come back to you eventually. Then you'll clean up his messes and cook his food like the enslaved dumbass that you are. And he'll occasionally fuck you like a piece of garbage, and you’ll be stupid enough to take it as a compliment.

But he won't be fucking you exclusively. No, ma'am. That's because mothers are about as sexy as used tampons. Sure, they could be used for sexual purposes, but who'd WANT to?

I have never heard a man say, "I really want to make it with someone's mom." That's because mothers are the most revoltingly asexual, brain-dead cretins on the planet. Most men would rather screw a fistful of live maggots than a breeder. Of course, they will eventually stoop to making it with you, because they're men and would fuck knotholes if given the opportunity, especially after a few belts of alcohol.

As for you, you voluntarily turned your back on the option of a safe, legalized abortion. So next time you take a notion to get knocked up, you should be sentenced to having a heated coat hanger jammed up your stupid gaping cunt until the metal goes spiking right through the little bastard's head. You don't deserve children. Those children grinning in your annual Mother's Day portrait should've been a pile of twisted, blood-soaked fetuses decorating your local abortionist's garbage pail.

But no.

You had to breed.

I know that you mothers feel so special cradling some screaming hunk of shit against your sagging, malformed breasts. Doubtless, it must be a unique honor to spread your flabby legs in a hospital room and blast that yowling, puking maggot out of your heaving, overworked twat.

You are not special because you are a mother. Any animal can squat down and shit out a runt. You do not deserve any special privileges. If anything, you should be declared an enemy of the state. You should be severely fined by the government for each child you produce, because you're bringing a burden on the economy. Parents are systematically weakening the nation with each new birth.

So, allow me to conclude this little tribute by saying thank you, Mommie Dearest, for unloading another crushing burden upon a planet that can no longer support it. Thank you, you stupid, retarded sow, for subjecting us to your screaming little Ashliees, Maddysons, Bhrendans or whatever ghastly misspelled name you chose to assign to this year's model of bastardhood. And thank you, above all, for setting women back two thousand years by throwing your career in the shitter and popping out child after child like some kind of genetically damaged farm animal.

Don't fool yourself, bitch. Even if you're still working, you're a Mommy first.

Mommy.

Utter that word with all the disgust in your heart.

Mommy.

A drooling, fucked up pig. A stagnant, idiotic piece of shit. A chromosomal throwback to the Dark Ages.

And now, having said all that, I wish you a happy Mother's Day from the bottom of my heart.

Love,