You know, some guy who I can’t be bothered to remember once said, “No man is as sure to find unhappiness as a cynic with a damp wad of compassion deep in their heart.” How I know that sting.
See, that fits me to a tee. No matter how bitter and intolerant I get when faced with the unending barrage of stupidity from the people around me, I can still get choked up by an after-school special featuring a young Joey Lawrence when I find myself drifting across the dial to the Lifetime network on a lazy Saturday afternoon.
As you may expect, my delicate humors are at odds sometimes with my colleagues here at StrangeCrap. When I say colleagues, of course I mean the jackasses I see every six months to watch European videos of cruel tricks played on innocent people and jabber endlessly about the site. Why, only last week, while talking with Necromancer X on the phone, he directed me to a web site featuring galleries of people’s shit sitting in toilets. (Knowing that bastard, he’ll probably stick a link to that very site in this article and claim he was making an ‘editorial decision’.) After I explained my reluctance to stare at other people’s crap, NX declared that I was an “empty-sacked pussy”.
Bear this in mind as I get to the topic at hand: Christmas.
I seem to be in the minority these days in that I actually enjoy the holidays. I like getting together with my family. I even like finding presents for people. Sometimes I even walk around the neighborhood to look at people’s lights.
Sure, there can be a lot of irritations during Christmas: long lines in airports, sickening levels of consumerism and, of course, the knife fights with Russian dockworkers. Still, I can’t help but remember how Christmas was the pinnacle of the year when I was a wee laddie. I was fortunate in that my birthday is almost exactly six months after Christmas, letting me balance the year out. My brother, who had a birthday in September, faced a long, arduous 9-month wait for presents. Deep in my heart, I know that’s what caused him to kill all those hitchhikers.
So yes, I expect to get a load of crap from my colleagues here (I’m thinking I’ll be labeled a “limp-dicked pantywaist” or perhaps even “sad like a Frenchman”) for saying that I still look forward to Christmas. All of the long lines and advertising don’t matter when I’m with my family and friends and I have a giant turkey drumstick hanging limply from my mouth. And I may be twenty-eight, but dammit, I still love getting presents.
As far as the eternal question of what I want for Christmas, well…mostly, I just wish all those stupid pigfuckers who never learned how to drive with common consideration would become pathetic shut-ins, trapped in their dank apartments that reek of cottage cheese, cat urine, and ass. Oh, and the people who try to get in the elevator before you get off can fuck right off too. Mostly, I want the evil bitch that murdered a friend of mine to rot in prison for the rest of her miserable, stinking life.
But, since you’re asking, I’d settle for a new DSS/TiVo combo unit that can hold about 100 hours of high quality digital entertainment, as I’m tired of running out of space for ESPN female aerobics shows. (Or maybe some of you freeloaders could buy some of our merchandise so I can get Grandma a pair of shoes that don’t have holes in them!)
In closing, forget about all the shallow crap that goes on around the holidays and fills your brain with the endlessly buzzing wasps of stress, and enjoy what you have around you while you still do. The world, while tainted by evil, is still pretty good for the most part, as is evidenced by the sinking Nielsen ratings of Pro Wrestling and “Reality” TV shows.
Merry Freakin’ Christmas.