If you think ecards and greeting cards are - at best - insipid, mass-produced tokens of insincere sentiment, then I like you. And also, welcome to Wrongcards.
I got invited to attend a childbirth once. Then I said a couple of things that got me swiftly uninvited. Of course - they were a bit weird but it occurs to me that many would go along just to be nice. I'm looking at you, Twenty-First Century Husbands. When Baby Miracle arrives you're supposed to be in a bar across the street. Smoking. And swigging brandy. Where did we go so wrong?
Some days it's not all that apparent to me why I'm not on a beach somewhere. People should be handing me beverages and offers to relax me in fresh, imaginative ways. Some days I wonder if I took a wrong turn when I decided to base my career on the principle of being honest.
When they call my number at the Pearly Gates I expect my entry to be a shoe-in. This is not because I have led a conspicuously virtuous life but because of the disconcertingly high body count I have racked up killing demons in video-games. Also nazis, while I'm thinking about it. I've probably murdered half a bazillion symbolic demons and nazis - how is that not better than prayer?
Look - I'm not saying I don't have issues but when I showed today's card to the guy who delivers my mail he embraced me, burst into tears and declared himself 'expressed'. I showed it to the guy in Starbucks and he grasped my hand firmly, called me brother and announced my lattes would be free forever or his life would be forfeit. It's not all that bad being a spiritual leader some days.
I'm ignoring our re-hash Wednesday tradition and posting a new card today because, well, I have the power to do so and because I am the boss. Being a boss is like being a king except instead of bringing you courtesans they bring you tea. Today's card is about Mother's Day. I'm sorry I mentioned courtesans before. Sometimes I say things that are a little bit inappropriate. It's a bit of a secret.
I had a pretty normal childhood even though I was raised by my Nanna after my parents were kidnapped by lizard people. Nanna was in the underground before our side surrendered, and she had to live in 'psychic hiding' (constant inebriation) to avoid detection by mind scanners. So coming up with Mothers Day cards is, of course, a bit tricky. But what I like about this card is that it is reassuring.
People often say to me: "Who are you?! And how did you get in here?" And I say: "Sorry, wrong house!" and apologize for eating their yogurt. People also say to me, "you're a good son, your Mother must be proud!" and then I have to explain that I was raised by my grandmother who fed me lizards. And people wonder why I like the taste of yogurt so much.
Congratulating people whenever they contribute to the human over-population problem is an important, profitable niche in the greeting card market. I may suck at inventing business concepts (cards that you shouldn't send to anyone?) but I'm going all out to meet my professional obligations today.
"Why did you just take a photo of me?" he asked. "Who knows why I do anything?" I replied. "Just don't be putting me in any more wrongcards." "I'd never do that," I said firmly. "You did one that said I smoked weed at work." "Maybe it was your imaginary friend," I said. "I don't have one," he replied. "Funny you should think that..."
“But do you understand it?” I asked a friend. He said, ”I'm seeing a birthday zebra that's troubled by its temporary individuality, isolation and detachment, but will happily return to the unremarkable anonymity of herd experience tomorrow”. I looked at him and said: “Actually I just wanted to draw a zebra."
'People say to me: Che - how do you do it? I say 'hard work and nothing more'. But the truth is that everything pretty much depends on Human Resources not paying too much attention to me. Happy Friday you lot.'
'On Wednesdays I like to post a slightly older card and then I invariably I do something practical, like my taxes. I always put a dead bird into the envelope I send to the IRS - when they call me up about it I say it was an accident. FYI: federal employees are not paid enough to audit people who accidentally mail dead animals to them. I'm here to help.'