Normally I wouldn’t break character and talk about how great
Mother’s Day is, and I see nothing abnormal about today, so I’ll instead talk
about how all of these holidays are the bane of my very existence. I don’t
really know what the bane of my existence means, but it certainly sounds good
in a blog entry. Why does everybody have to have a day? Mother’s, father’s,
grandparent’s, step-cousin’s. It gets old. Then you have Black History Month
(white guilt much?), Latino Heritage Month, Asian Day, Native American Hour,
and the list goes on. Just last week I commented on how saints cover a wide
range of things, such as being the patron saint of dishwashers, basketball
players, and the month of June, all in one. Sounds to me like it would make an
awesome story of how it came to be, but instead they’re more or less darts with
names of occupations on it thrown at a board and whoever they pin is the patron
saint of it. I feel like holidays are the same way. Someone created Christmas,
and then everyone got jealous because they didn’t have a day to be celebrated.
I had a great mom; she did everything. I have no problem
buying her a card, flowers, and chocolate once a year, but I have to do the
same thing for Valentine’s Day, and Sweetest Day, and whatever other day they
come up with. How about we just all be more appreciative of each other year
round? Nah, I hate people. Die, everyone.
Picture unrelated.