Words from a Douglas Fir: "Stop Hanging Your Balls on My Branches"

Yo, assholes. My name is Douglas Fir and I am seriously, SERIOUSLY fed up with you people. Until recently, I led a fun life in a forest, surrounded by friends and relatives. Life was good. Our roots meandered happily through the soil, which happens to be kind of erotic in a horticultural sort of way. You wouldn't understand. Anyway, we were happy. We had camaraderie, if you will. Birds would sit on our branches and entertain us with chirps, tweets and the occasional badly aimed bowel movement (LOL) but it was a good life.

Then one day, a toothless amateur surgeon in a flannel shirt, suspenders and a serious phlegm problem comes along with a hacksaw and separates me from my trunk. Lumberjack Asshole is performing a goddam amputation with no frigging anesthetic! I'm a living being, douchebag! I have a nervous system. It fucking hurts like a son of a bitch.

After being savagely butchered, I am now separated from my family, tied up with ropes and thrown on somebody's car roof. I notice that hundreds of my friends and relatives are suffering the same fate. What happened? All of a sudden there's a tree pogrom? Is it some form of racial discrimination? Is it because I'm a Douglas fir and not a stately oak or an elm? I'm innocent! I want to live!

Half dead and in mortal pain, I am now subjected to a unique form of torture perpetrated by folks like you who seem to take great joy in violating my dignity by hanging balls on my branches. What is this shit all about anyway? Hang your goddamn balls on yourself and see how you like it. My branches are tired. Bad enough I'm sitting in some bonehead's living room with no water and some dog urinating on me twice a day, but now my branches have to hold up all this heavy ornamental shit for weeks. You put gifts under me but are any of them for me? No!

And where do I end up a week later? Next to a row of garbage cans, abandoned and forgotten, waiting to be carted away and put through a wood chipper, which does not sound like a fun way to spend an afternoon. Am I now fated to spend the rest of my life on the floor of some country western joint named "Bubba's Shithole" in East Moron, Texas? Whoop--dee--do.

Do me a big favor---tell me what this idiotic crap is all about. Is it some kind of whacky religious ritual or what? Do you have a God who requires you to torture trees and hang balls on them? If so, you might want to consider abandoning this God because, pardon me, he sound like he needs therapy. And why would you destroy entire forests? I thought you people were, what do you call it, tip of my tongue, oh yeah... environmentalists.

Pffft.