Mother's Day

The Old man with emphysema in his voice: the market is the thing. The market. Mark it. What is it that you can sell? I had a boy that couldn't even sell himself. Now hush. Listen to me. Listen right here, now listen to this. If you aren't convincing you won't sell a damn thing. I told girls they were pretty and they didn't believe me. And then I put on a dirty hat and sold them some cars that they're still driving. And I've got these cigars in my pocket, the best ones, and let me tell you that nobody bought a thing they didn't believe in, and you got the balls to set up for nihilism, stupid little boy. Now, get your ass out of second gear. They once had these push button transmissions in cars, you know, but they didn't last because they were too easy. The people aren't ready for a boy. You're much too wise for your own good, and you laugh much too easily. Good salesmen know when to laugh and when not to laugh! Remember boy, it's all about the sale.

And now for the Mother's Day spectacular! Tune in and your mother will love you for it. Simply copy and paste the poem below, print, and send it to mom by this sunday. It's an authentic transcript of a handwritten poem Abraham snail mailed to his Mother, so you are sure to get strawberry shortcake for your birthday and at very little cost to you!
Happy Mother's Day! Are you feeling the mirth?


Mother, so dear to me, I wish I could say
I'll lavish you with jewelry on this Mother's Day.
Or a fancy fur coat and rooms full of flowers
Or something delightful to work on for hours
Though you need no shiny jewels to brighten your face
The gesture would prove that you came in First Place
For the Best Mother Ever and Ever and Ever
For love was your everlasting clever endeavor
But somewhere I read or somebody said
The Best Mothers get poems as a present instead!