Thanks for being a good sport.
It seems like only, oh, four and a half billion years ago that the sun vomited you up. A few hundred million years later, little microscopic bastards were crawlin' all over ya', fighting to shoot fins and flippers out of their slimy little bodies. Over time, the tiny fuckers got bigger, crawled out of your watery womb, and spilled out all over your sandy thighs kicking and screaming for survival. You took care of us, nurtured us, taught us, punished us when necessary, and eventually, one day, after we decided we knew everything, we started taking care of ourselves.
We got our own places somewhere in the old neighborhood- close enough to keep borrowing shit from you. We got jobs, raised families, taught 'em everything you taught us with our own personal spin on things. You kept watching over us, beaming with pride at times, scowling in disappointment at others. You had to sit there and watch your kids argue about inane bullshit, fighting over ideas and possessions, squabbling over the gifts you gave us. And every time you tried to step in and tell us that we should stop, that we should play nice and share, we told you to jam a cock in it or we'd put you in a fuckin' home.
You're gettin' old, Mom.We're still acting like spoiled fuckin' brats; but at least once a year, we get together and make you a card to tell you we still love you, maybe get you something nice to make you forget what rotten fucks your kids are and how much closer you're getting towards death. Yesterday, we couldn't have cared less, and tomorrow we'll go right back to treating you like shit again, but for today, we love you and we want you to know it.
Happy Mother's Day, Earth.