(They're all pretty horrible)
 |
An Unfortunate Card Speaks Out
By Mutant Pear-Head
I don't know why it happens. Maybe it's the way times change, maybe the world is full of hack artists, maybe the world is full of indiscriminate consumers, but for some reason, there sure are a lot of very bad greeting cards.
I know who isn't to blame: us, the characters on the cards. Do you think I asked to be born with a giant fruit where my head should be? I assure you I didn't.
I know I'm scary, but all I really want to do is make someone happy. Me and my fellow Valentine cards were made to bring people together, to express love. We really aren't trying to scare you, and I don't think we deserve to be sniggered at like some sort of joke or hidden from like the boogeyman.
 |
The same goes for my brethren from other holidays. Santa Claus is a loving, giving individual. Does he deserve to be mocked just because some cartoonist drank too much spiked eggnog and made a monster out of him? I think not.
You know what hurts? When you take a nap outdoors and a worm eats its way into your head because it's made of goddamn fruit instead of flesh. But that doesn't hurt nearly as much as being laughed at when you only want to spread cheer.
 |
Haven't the Irish suffered enough? Do they really need every bad memory and negative stereotype brought back to haunt them every St. Patrick's Day just so you can get a few laughs before ingesting so much green beer your head feels as big as mine? Why can't you people just leave them alone?
 |
No, I don't know why so many Unfortunate Cards feature death or injury, and I don't even really care anymore. You may think the pain and suffering of others is comical, but you wouldn't if your whole job was to be a boy blowing up on a Fourth of July card.
You can make a difference. All you need to do is stop buying and sending Unfortunate Cards. Take a little more time to pick out a nice card, something with flowers and a little poem maybe. You have no idea how many of us you would keep from having to go to therapy. At the very least, when you see us, please don't laugh. We can't help who we are.
Oh God, I think I'm starting to rot.
