In view of the commercialization of all holidays, combined with our toxic feminist milieu, I can not fault any brother for refusing to commemorate this day. Certainly, my sister and I are not phoning our biological mother.
Mom was the typical self-centered waste of space who divorced our father in childhood. She won the lottery (granted, this was decades ago in the Mormon blue pill zone) and found a new simp to marry her. Simp wasn’t a bad guy, but he wasn’t our dad. Sis and I both got rid of mom as we came to adulthood, and while I can’t speak for her, my life has been on the upswing since.
There are noble women out in the world — so I’m told — and if any of you guys were raised by one of these women, today is the day to apologize for her valium prescription. You were, after all, the impetus for it.
No bullshit, you’re a very fine writer, Boxer!
I feel leery about writing this only because you praised me. It makes me feel like two girls “patting each other’s pussy” (“Yes! Exactly!” they agree with every assertion). But you are really good.
At this delicate stage in your career, you’re going to be tempted to give up. But may I remind you of the advice you gave me? About perhaps not detonating my current site?
Physician, apply thy advice to themselves. Think long and hard before surrendering — and even then give it a little while longer. Success comes to those who try.
On topic: I also had a negative view of my mother. She vegetated her life away in the bedroom of our nice suburban house and did nothing I liked. I was hatefully grateful when she died.
On later thought, it occurs to me that hate tends to bend the hater as much as anyone else. So for that reason, I will moderate it.
Slightly.