What you are about to witness on this blog is to go no further than your own set of eyes. It is imperative that you heed this warning. I will not be held responsible for your actions once you have visually and mentally consumed what you are about to observe on these very pixels. Kind of like Mission:Impossible, I will disavow any knowledge of you, your assignment or this post.
This blog will self-destruct in 1000 words.
The unthinkable is going to happen in front of your very eyes right now. I am about to…Gawd, do I dare say it???!!!…get serious! There! I done it! I actually wrote the dreaded S-word out loud! I shall now be cursed throught out my remaining years on this veil of tears by torments of Biblical proportions. Plagues of locusts. The Kennebec River turning into blood. My kids turning into Red Sox fans!
Oh, the humanity!
For Your Eyes Only
Even if the only words from this blog that you’ve ever read are the first few of this post, you know that I don’t take too much shit too seriously. Today, however, will be a little different. It is, after all, a very important day.
When reading them, those two words have a comforting “feel” to them, don’t they? Go ahead. Read ’em again. Mothers Day. See what I mean? Soft as cotton and cool as the other side of the pillow on a hot summer’s night.
Kind of like a Mom.
For Mom’s Eyes Only
I don’t want to get too sappy here, I have a reputation to live down to. But today is all about Moms – my Mom, your Mom, all God’s children’s Moms. We owe ’em a lot, you know.
Moms, you are the symbol of all that is right with world. The glue of society. The fabric of nations. The truly Chosen Ones .
You are confronted with not only your own set of challenges, but also with the myriad trials and tribulations from us, your children. You are our soft place to fall whether we are five months or five decades of age. You are there for us like the Sun in the Eastern sky every morning. Constant. Warm. Dependable. Unfailing.
We need you, Moms, like the rose needs the rain and the hungry man needs bread. You sustain us. You nourish us. You love us. Unconditionally. We simply cause you pain from the moment we breathe our first till the time you breathe your last.
I think we, the kids, get the better end of the deal.
The Toughest Job in the World is yours, yet somehow you find the strength, courage and determination to see it through until you are called on to make Heaven a better place.
It’s Your Day
So, Moms…..we, your sometimes seemingly ungrateful children, really aren’t ungrateful at all. We are just too stoopid to see what is right in front of our faces sometimes. We may on occasion take you for granted, but we never underestimate the impact that you have had on our lives since the day we were first swatted on the ass by the Doctor.
Nope. We ain’t ungrateful. Ever.
We are, however, Dumbasses. Always. And you still love us.
And we love you.
Happy Mothers Day from the Dumbass Horde.
|Nothing Says “Mom’s a Slut” Like a High Heel Wine Holder for Mothers Day|
I am a guy. I am a lousy gift buyer. This is especially true when it comes to picking out a gift for a woman, say, like Mom.
When you are a kid getting Mom a Mothers Day present is easy. Any gift will do. Perfume? Sure. House shoes. You bet. Embalmed gila monster incense burner? Not a problem. But as you get older, you are expected to be a bit more practical about such things. I don’t understand why that is though. I am still a guy who has no frakkin’ clue what to get Mom for her special day. Besides, an embalmed gila monster incense burner still sounds like a pretty good deal to me.
It is at this point that I remind myself that I am a Dumbass.
These days it’s much easier to do the actual shopping for a Mothers Day gift, thanks in large part to the internet. If you have an internet connection and a debit card you can buy practically anything from anywhere in the world. A few mouse clicks and the next thing you know Mom has been booked for an all expense paid trip to Puerta NoOneKnows or she’s the proud owner of that authentic fake Shroud of Turin Replica, autographed by Jesus. Yes, Jesus himself (pronounced Hay-soos), a Colombian burro rancher and part-time cocaine distributor for the Cali drug cartel, will personally sign and authenticate each Shroud sold. I must point out that although the Shroud may be a reproduction, the burro hair it is made from is quite real. It’s a real steal at 4 bazillion pesos. That’s about 38 cents American. A free line of blow is included with bulk orders of 25 or more.
Any Mom would be glad to own one and proud to wear it to her next Little Old Ladies’ Every Other Wednesday Canasta Tournament and Tequila Drinking Extravaganza.
Or maybe not.
Making the RIGHT Choice
This is where things get hairy when guys buy stuff for women, whether it’s for Mothers Day, an anniversary or because he was out waaaayyy too late with the boys last night. No matter the circumstance, we men make lousy gift choices.
As a Public Service to My Fellow Male Dumbasses Who Are Pitiful Gift Buyers for Females, I have heeded the advice of my wife, who is also a Mother, and done an extraordinary amount of research into gifts to not buy Mom this Sunday. And by “extraordinary research” I mean Mrs. Fearless Leader of the Dumbass Horde sent me an email with a link to some really fucking stoopid crap being sold as gifts. And by “fucking stoopid crap” I mean shit that would clutter up a landfill.
Let us explore.
I am gonna put up a few photos of actual items for sale that some poor Dumbass will buy for his wife or Mother. The wife or Mother, upon receipt of this steaming pile of merchandise, will then Google up “gazebo removers”, if ou know what I mean and I think you do.
While this contraption may look like Good Old Dad has an ulterior motive in making this purchase, the fact of the matter is that while this may look like something Mom practices a hummer on, it’s actually a (I ain’t making this up) a “Suction-Powered Lip Plumper”. It must be a tremendous item, just take notice of the “far away” look in Mom’s eyes. I think Dad may be on to something here. I’m just sayin’.
If you think the blow job insinuator up there ^^^ is a poor choice of Mothers Day gift ideas, then this one probably comes with a loaded .45 and a hollowpoint bullet in the chamber. This contraption is a “Waist Stretcher”. I can think of no better way to get Mom to Google-ing “gazebo removers” or “insanity pleas for husband murder” than to make her a present of this thing. You see, Mothers Day is the perfect time to let Mom know she’s put on an extra inch or two in the abdominal area. Trust me on this one, Guys. You’d rather fight Satan at the End of Times using only a Slinky as a weapon than to buy this as a Mothers Day gift. The Blow Job Thing is a far better choice. And that ain’t necessarily a positive thing.
Mom the Sprots Fan
I am from Texas and almost all Texas Women are sports fans to varying degrees. My sister Teri can talk shit about sports with the best of ’em, male or female. For women like her, this “Personalized Bobblehead Doll” would be an outstanding gfit idea. Keep in mind,Guys, that the woman you buy one of these for must be a HUGE sports fan! If she’s not big on football and stuff and you give her this lovely trinket for Mothers Day, on Monday she will be a big Female Divorce Lawyer on PMS Fan. Enough said.
Mrs. Fearless Leader of the Dumbass Horde came across these sensational items on the Huffandpuffandgiveyouablowjobpost, where you can view a nifty slide show of wonderful Mothers Day gift ideas similar to those above. She then proceeded to lecture about the virute of receiving diamonds as a deterant to”gazebo remover” or “pissed of female divorce attorney” Google-ing. I am sure she was being very sincere with me.
For more exciting and “unique” ways to tell Mom you lover this Mothers Day, it is imperative that you visit the site where all these valuable and collectable treasures can be found.
Fellow Dumbasses, let valor be the better part of judgement when considering what to give Mom this Sunday. Also, in your mid’s ear, let the words “gazebo remover” echo loudly and often. I’m just sayin’.
|plumcrackheads.com Hate Moms|
We are less than a week away from the most important secular holiday of the year – Mother’s Day. While millions of Americans will be making spaecial plans for Mom her on special day, Mom just may have other ideas. At least according to a survey done by a company in that well-known bastion of Motherhood, San Francisco. <—-That is some serious sarcasm there. Anyway, some dumbass firm in the Land of Fruits and Nuts conducted a survey of over 19,000 mothers across the country. The results may surprise you.
Plum District, a company that “provides locally relevant offers for targeted mothers”, whatever the fuck that means, polled 19,256 of it 1 million members nationwide in order to determine what Moms woul;d really like for Mother’s Day.
Not so surpising is that two-thirds of the Moms surveyed said that they would prefer to not pick out their own gift for Mother’s Day. A little over half, 54%, said that they would like to spend some time with their own Moms. One would expect these types of numbers.
But things get weird from here.
The Dumbasses at http://www.plumdistrict.com/ also say that the results of this survey show that 8 in 10, that’s 80% (!), of the Mothers queried would rather sleep in than to have a sunrise breakfast with their kids! I have a problem with this finding. While there’s absolutely no doubt that being a Mom is the most demanding job in the world and Moms certainly could use the extra shut eye on Mother’s Day, or any day for that matter, I have a great deal of difficulty believing that the average American Mom would rather sleep in than to have a memorable moment such as a Mother’s Day breakfast with the very lives they have deliverd into the world. In other words, I call bullshit. I mean. think about it. Can you name one Mom that you know who’d put an extra hour or two of sleep ahead of spending time with her children on Mother’s Day of all days? I didn’t think so.
Oh, this gets better, Dumbasses.
If the Einsteins at plumstoopidshit.com are to be believed, fully one-third of their respondentes to this
steaming pile of donkey shit survey secretly want the day to themselves! I’ll keep that crap in mind when I don’t call my Mom this Sunday and at a later date tell her that I just knew that she wanted the day to herself. She would be thrilled that I was so unselfish. After she kicked my ass. Twice.
Who are the bitches that participated in this nonesense? Are they, you know, actual Moms? Let’s just say that I am skeptical. No, let’s don’t say that. Let’s say that I have never in my 55 years of life, read such a load of Liberal Pussy Anti-Mother Commie Caca.
What. The. Hell?
I am seriously at a loss here. The people at weareplumfuckingclueless.com claim to have a million members in their organization, 99.9% women one would assume, and this is what they come up with? The only thing I can think of is that whoever answered the questions to this survey are either selfish cunts who don’t deserve to be Mothers or crossdressers from San Fran that have the kind of plumbing that prevents them from having babies – femine qualities aside.
Maybe the pollsters at wehaveexternalplumbingdistrict.com somehow, against adds of at least 7 bazillion-to-1, contacted the 19,256 females that humanity has to offer who are the least worthy of the Sacrament of Motherhood and wouldn’t know a diaper from a maxi pad.
It’s time for me to end this post. I am simply dumbfounded that ANY Mother in the United States would put herself ahead of her children, especially on the one day a year where kids actually realize that their Mom, along with tens of millions of other Moms from sea to shining sea, are the glue that holds families, and taken a step further, society, together.
Any female parent that wants to be as self-centered and petty on Mother’s Day as they are portrayed in this “survey”, there are 364 other days throughout the year (365 in a Leap Year) to do so. Pick one of ’em.
Leave us to celebrate Mother’s Day with Honest-to-God Mothers not women like you who have been, as your Negro Commie-in-Chief says, “punished with a baby”.