Are Some Mothers Overrated?


By: John Lillpop

Mine is not, of course.

After all, she brought moi into the world and ever since that joyous occasion, the joint has never been the same.

For gifting the world with me, my mum deserves the eternal gratitude of the entire planet. I sort of appreciate her good works as well, even if she did spend most of her pregnancy in devout prayer for a bouncing baby girl.

Sorry, dear mum, but the Lord gave me what he gave me, from head to toe with all vital parts in between. What you see is what you get, holy prayer or not!

Thank God my folks were dirt poor, or dear mum might have tried to have me plumbing altered to suit her gender bias.

Why in the world she wanted a Joan instead of a John is still a mystery. In any event, I sort of got even with her by refusing to put the toilet seat up until two days after her funeral.

At that point, it seemed the logical thing to do, since she was no longer around to swab the bathroom floors, and I positively gag at the sight and smell of stagnant urine and mops.

Mind you, I am not adamantly opposed to transsexual conversions, except when the object of the surgical knife is that which I hold dear and true.

In California, we call it a mans Royal American, and aint no way mine is going to end up as a replacement part for some whacked out broad who is suffering from terminal Penis Envy!

But what about those mothers whose offspring bring agony, rather than joy, to the globe?

I am thinking of those who gave birth to Hillary Clinton, Barack Obama, and other left wing monsters, for example.

Should the women who bore and raised these brats be praised or flogged in public?

Which is more appropriate for the woman responsible for foisting Nancy Pelosi on an innocent America: A dozen red roses and a pound of chocolates, or public stoning?

Happy Mothers Day!

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