Not to spoil the movie or anything, but Gwyneth Paltrow’s head is in that box.

My dear, dear mother doesn’t know about this blog (my siblings give her enough to be distraught about as it is), but should she ever learn of it, one of the first things she’d do is search for mentions of herself — to see if she has grounds for a libel suit. Well, Mom, you’re going to have to find another reason to sue me, because I only talk smack about you in private, and I’m only mentioning you now so I can tell you Happy Mother’s Day and have it recorded for Internet posterity.

Thank you for never having any freak-outs about wire hangers, and for never starring in Trog. To the extent that I’m capable of loving anyone, I love you, and I’m sorry for writing that salacious tell-all in the ’70s. Next time I’m mad at you about something, I’ll sleep on it for a week or two before inking a book deal. And to anyone reading this who’s also a mom, provided you’re not the kind that gets calls from Child Protective Services, Happy Mother’s Day to you, too.