Simply having reproduced is nothing to be especially proud of. You don't need to be a rocket scientist to get knocked up. In fact, millions of gals do it without having the slightest thought in their pretty little heads. But around this time of year, many mothers would like us to believe they've performed enormous selfless services to the species and the planet.
Do you remember asking to be brought into this overpopulated, globally-warmed, hate-filled, war-torn, disease-infested hellhole? Neither do I.
Dammit Mom, why didn't you keep your legs crossed?
Most women don't even consider what the potential kid might want. They get pregnant mainly because they want a real live kewpie doll they can play with. They need a small helpless being to give them the unconditional love they've heard so much about, the kind of love they can't get from their men. They need to see a pair of adoring, unjudgmental eyes staring back at them. For a few years, anyway.
But when the helpless doll matures and inevitably realizes how fucked up his mommy made him, the mom is outraged. She says, "But I gave life to you."
Bullshit, Mom. You selfishly decided your life was incomplete without a rugrat. And now you want... GRATITUDE?!
Oh, okay. Happy Mother's Day. Don't choke on the chocolate WMDs.
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Alan C. Baird sent the following posts to customers who purchased Literary Potpourri, Vol 1, #4