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Christmas, Merry

I love Christmas.  In truth I suspect a lot of folks love Christmas, though I am quite aware the poor souls who find this season depressing, overwhelming, commercialized, and just downright crappy.  But I love it!

Do you remember when you were a kid?  Oh the joy of decorations in and out of the house; the gentle nature of all the Ebenezer Scrooges’s of the world?  When the strand of light bulbs that’d worked so majestically last year turn to electronic ‘poop’ this year and no one’s overly upset about it?  The beauty of the snow, the joy of the unending feast?  Oh yes, the candies, and rum cake, and peppermint chewies, and chocolate snowmen, and carameled popcorn, and turkey…

And the presents under the tree!  Little sticker that’d announce your name on top of Santa Claus wrapping that was so colorful it almost hurt your eyes?  And another sticker announcing that the gift wasn’t to be opened until “December 25th”?  And you’d count them along with your sibling to ensure we all get about the same number…and Mama doing economic cartwheels to fulfill the evenness necessity?  Then the jolly fat man coming behind his smelly reindeer and sneaking into you house like a very tactful burglar to leave you more presents!  It was an absolute mountain of an event…one that was looked forward too with unbelievable anticipation!  Tears streaming down my youthful face as I realize I’ve already got what I wanted this year…and there were more!  More!  MORE!

And then you grew up didn’t cha Sparky?  Oh yeah, and when the object of your affections was as infatuated (or drunk, high, fulfill a bet, deranged, hard-up, or bankrupt) with you as you were with them you tied the matrimonial knot.  Good for you…set ya back a few thousand didn’t it now?  But that’s okay ’cause American Express has a special package for weddings, and Visa will allow you to borrow cash right off the card!  Feel good about it Beatrice…you’re building your credit as you pay off that $300.00 cake that he smashed in your face so hard it pushed a booger into your eye socket…

And a few years later you sit with the object of your affections (whom you only want to kill 32% of the time, which means you have a 68% happy marriage) and realize that Christmas is now your responsibility?  How the hell did this happen?  Doesn’t the Jolly Fat Elf realize that you’re already financially tapped out (tapped out being a kind word for it.  More like strained, mortgages to the hilt, broke as a Mo—- Fu—-)?  Strain lines quite evident is your lover’s face you head to the store with the newest ‘not maxed out’ card in hand, and visions of the Christmas you’ll be creating dancing like Sugar Plum Fairies in your head.

But the realization comes harshly doesn’t it?  It’s not just presents?  When the neighbor’s down the lane do their house up in outside lights like they got a few shares of stock in the electric company you gotta get lights.  And ribbon for the railing, and a spotlight that depicts Santa coming across the front of your homestead eh?  And you just gotta have the welcome mat with the three wise men on it, and a wreath for the door, and a chime for the inside of the door, and two Christmas trees (one for the cat to destroy).  And you need knick-knacks for your end tables, and candy, and little Santa Claus shaped chocolates that have marshmallow inside.

How did this terrible thing fall up you.  Well, Pater Pan was right Gertrude…never grow up!

Estimated costs of phrased uttered at Christmas:

  1. $15.00  “I think one of —— would look so nice here.”
  2. $17.50  “That damn cat…he tore up the —–.”
  3. $20.00  “Your Mother called, Dad says since he doesn’t really need anything this year you can just get him a —–.”
  4. $22.50  “They didn’t have —–at Walmart, so I hadda go to the mall.”
  5. $25.00  “The wind blew over my starfish angel outside, so I had to replace it.”
  6. $30.00  “Nancy down the street, you know, the one with the fat butt and the little girl who’ always picking her snoz at Church…her hubby got her a —– for her table.”
  7. $50.00  “My Mama always used to —– for Christmas.”
  8. $100.00 “When I was a little boy/girl I always wanted to do —– for Christmas.”
  9. $200.00  “We should go shopping as a family.”
  10. $500.00  “If you really love me you’ll get me/do this—– for Christmas.

(if number 10 seems on the verge of being spoken I suggest you place your heel squarely on the small toe of the voice about to utter it.  Prior to the actual asking; place 86% of your weight on said heel while reaching to hug the uttering voice.  In this way you can end the uttering of said request while having the fall back position of stating this occurred only because you are so in love that you required a hug.)

When going into Saint Patrick’s Day do 42% of the stations on you FM dial go to Irish Music?  Around the middle of June does your #3 pick on the little do-hickie that you push to change stations begin belting out Lee Greenwood’s “God bless the U. S. A.” every fifteen minutes?  And, as Arbor Day approaches I’ve never heard “Trees” by Rush.

I swear to Goodness, if I hear Brenda Lee singing about “Rockin’ around the Christmas Tree” one more time someone’s gonna get throat punched!  “White Christmas” by Bing Crosby might be the best selling song of all time, but after the thousandth time of hearing it this year?  Now to be honest, when I hear “Blue Christmas” by Elvis my blood pressure only goes up 12%, and any song by the Carpenters is always welcome.  But that stupid SONG ABOUT GRANDMA GETTING SQUASHED BY A REINDEER!!!  Oh my Ghod, and they made a television version?!?!  What kind of hill-jacked, toothless, inbreed, carp-fishin’, rusty-truck, McNugget eatin’, uneducated, three legged antelope, spineless jellyfish, goat humpin’, Crimson Tide rootin’, gettin’ beat up by your wife/sister, cross-eyed, can’t masturbate ’cause you got 90% of your fingers chopped off in a mud-wrestling incident, unicycle ridin’, Busch drinkin’, tree huggin’ (only way to ummm, well, without 90% of your fingers), trampoline jumpin’, tobacco spittin’, brain-dead guppy gathers the fam around the old black and white and watches this crap.

“Hey Sissy, you’uns best be fur gettin’ har quick like…it’s dog-gone ’bout to start.”

(Brief interlude here my fine reader.  In the story of Grandma’s demise at the hands of a Caribou from the Arctic Circle, she’d going to find herself trampled on Christmas Eve.  The title of this incredibly artistic work is also the plot structure.)

And now back to our regularly scheduled program…

And the little beings you’ve created during occasional occasions when you and the “object of your affections” could garner five minutes (and 13 seconds) alone!   Those little shits…


  1. “Last year I got —–, so this year I should get—-.”
  2. “My friend Marcy, you know, from Algebra Class (refer at this point to section number 4 of the pamphlet you received at the beginning of the school year.  Turn to the section titled: People I consider my friends this week.)  Well, anyway, can you pass the mashed potatoes please?  Her Dad and Mom split up last year, and her Dad, who’s like the hottest Father I’ve ever seen (appropriate lowering of eyebrow from Mother)…I mean he’s a real DILF (DILF is a branch-off of the commonly used MILF.  Though not used with much regularity in the female word, it is sure to get a startled reaction from any parent)!  Well, anyway, he’s getting Marcy a whole package done at Mary’s Overpriced Face Emporium at the mall, and then he’s…can I see the gravy please…sending her and her sister on a trip to the Bahamas!  (The exclamation at this point is akin to the spokesperson on The Price is Right when the announce “NEW CAR”).  Can you believe it, and all I want this year is a new phone, X-Box (with year long gaming package), two pair of shoes, three pair of yoga pants (so tight the camels of the Sahara are giving condescending looks), and a new toothbrush.
  3. I’ll take a used car instead…
  4. How much does it cost to room and board a horse?
  5. I’ll just take money…

And now for my political rant…

‘Baby it’s cold outside’?  Ummmm, I see the Me Too movements point.  Young man trying to get the girl to stay because of the cold out there.  Getting her more cocktails (pun intended) in an attempt to have her guard relax a bit?  You can just imagine him leaning on the door as he speaks, wolf-like.  Okay, maybe it doesn’t belong in the same place as “White Christmas”.

And shush up you old foggies, they ain’t playin’ no rap trash on the Christmas station either.  But, be very cautious here.  Censorship is a double-edged blade.

Anyway, that’s certainly enough of my thoughts on this wonderful season.  May yours be blessed…