Breading contempt

Just not on the phone, in my mailbox or within a thousand miles of my physical person.

But that’s O.K. I’m fine. Really.
Enjoy the Snickers bar.
You’ve earned it.

If they think I’m a monster
I’ll say it’s all YO’ fault!
Happy Mother’s Day!

… takes a real mother.

To atone for my sins without
admitting them.
To reduce complex problems to
reactionary homilies.
That the Satanic scourge of
contraceptives can never dim the power
of prayer and pulling out.
But most of all, that life is so much
simpler when you leave that “family
values” jazz at the office.

God bless you … from the bottom of my bank account.

… and that’s why I didn’t grow up to be
a baby botherer, sheep shagger or butt
pirate. Thanks for at least preserving
the integrity of my DNA.

… and no one can talk to a
corpse, of course.

But if I could, I’d wish you a
day filled with snuggles and
rainbows.

Have the best holiday
circumstances
will allow.