So, It's "Goddamn Christmas Time" Again. (Part I of who the hell knows?)

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Christmas music started right on schedule, on November 1st.  I now have to use the drive-through at Walgreen's to get my horrible pills, because not even benzos can stop the utter ragetastic fits that Dolly Parton throws me into when she sings "normal" shit, let alone some saccharine shit about the holidays.

On the other hand, we get to listen to Bill O'Rielly whine about the war on Christmas...Again, just like clockwork.  That florid-faced bastard has been mailing it in for almost a decade now.  It's like he doesn't care, anymore.

Oh, and good luck getting anywhere in Tucson for the next 5 weeks.  The fucking snowbirds are shopping, and the traffic congestion combined with their lack of driving skills means that it's currently more dangerous out there than it is on Goddamn New Year's Eve.

But I have all my gift purchasing done.  Something for the wife, something for each kid, something for the parents, and a horrible letter ending "AND FUCK YOU" to every other relation I have.  Nigel and I will be writing a Christmas story this year, with some help from TGG and Sister Gothique, and that will be included in the letters to the particularly Christmas-y relatives.  Just a little something to put things in perspective, when they go blubbering about how Santa brings toys to all the good little girls and boys.  Fuck them, anyway.

And then there's Christmas dinner.  I really can't complain about Christmas dinner too much on one hand, because my folks, my family, and I typically lay out a spread that's just like the one presented by popular culture...Which is to say, TOO MUCH FUCKING FOOD.  I swear, it would feed a village in Africa for a month.  On the other hand, I fucking HATE dinners like that, even with my family.  It's not the food, it's the sitting down for 2 hours and making small talk.

Last thing for now:  Tucson.  Yep, Tis the season for Baba Yaga, so everyone hold onto your skin.  You might need it later.

More later.

[Juana]

Bill is a coin-operated boy. Stick a rating in and see what you get.

I think Baba Yaga is one of my favorite PD images.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Bill is a coin-operated boy. Stick a rating in and see what you get.

I think Baba Yaga is one of my favorite PD images.

She's like a nice old Grandma.   

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I mean, if nice old granny was cooking something different for Christmas dinner this year, and when you tried to peek into the cauldron to see what it is, she gave you a depressed skull fracture with her ladel. 

So, not unlike my actual granny, God rest her angry, angry soul.

[Cain]

I mostly get to avoid Christmas, up until the middle of December.  Someone tried to put up a fake cardboard Christmas Tree in our office, but a, uh, tragic accident occured and it had to be thrown in the bin. 

Part of the benefit of working from home, in an environment with lots of people from a non-Christian background is that there is no real pressure to put up decorations, no endless and tiresome Christmas songs during the daily commute, and no office party I'm expected to attend.  Instead, by this time next week 90% of my shopping will be done, and a few days before Xmas, I will head to my parents place, eat too much, drink too much, exchange gifts and get a couple of weeks of good sleep without any disturbances.

You see, the thing is, I don't necessarily dislike Christmas.  I'm not even adverse to the tiresome "commercialization of Christmas" crap of the wannabe Naomi Kleins of postmodernity.  I just want to like it on my own terms, my usually cool and understated fashion, instead of having it shoved down my throat and forced to wear a stupid grin while I warble on about how "this is the most wonderful time of year".  The social expectations, the baggage, is what bores me.  As with most things, now I come to consider it.

But anyway.  The point is, I'm going to avoid it for as long as seems necessary, and then engage in it entirely on my own terms.  And I will enjoy it.  And I might just have a small, mocking laugh for those who pontificate about the consumer frenzy of Xmas (because, you know, Christmas is special) or those who stress themselves to the point of nervous collapse over the whole thing.

[Juana]

I mean, if nice old granny was cooking something different for Christmas dinner this year, and when you tried to peek into the cauldron to see what it is, she gave you a depressed skull fracture with her ladel. 

So, not unlike my actual granny, God rest her angry, angry soul.

Good old Baba Yaga. Cousin Gregor is the one she trusts to do her Christmas dinner shopping.

I mostly get to avoid Christmas, up until the middle of December.  Someone tried to put up a fake cardboard Christmas Tree in our office, but a, uh, tragic accident occured and it had to be thrown in the bin. 

Part of the benefit of working from home, in an environment with lots of people from a non-Christian background is that there is no real pressure to put up decorations, no endless and tiresome Christmas songs during the daily commute, and no office party I'm expected to attend.  Instead, by this time next week 90% of my shopping will be done, and a few days before Xmas, I will head to my parents place, eat too much, drink too much, exchange gifts and get a couple of weeks of good sleep without any disturbances.

You see, the thing is, I don't necessarily dislike Christmas.  I'm not even adverse to the tiresome "commercialization of Christmas" crap of the wannabe Naomi Kleins of postmodernity.  I just want to like it on my own terms, my usually cool and understated fashion, instead of having it shoved down my throat and forced to wear a stupid grin while I warble on about how "this is the most wonderful time of year".  The social expectations, the baggage, is what bores me.  As with most things, now I come to consider it.

But anyway.  The point is, I'm going to avoid it for as long as seems necessary, and then engage in it entirely on my own terms.  And I will enjoy it.  And I might just have a small, mocking laugh for those who pontificate about the consumer frenzy of Xmas (because, you know, Christmas is special) or those who stress themselves to the point of nervous collapse over the whole thing.

I wouldn't object to it if my Christmases were more like that. I'm down with putting up lights (Shoe Ears and Chicken Quesadilla put them up yesterday, actually) but that's really about as far as I'm willing to go. Alas, I have to play along with the religious part and grin-n-bear the rest of the shit.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I mostly get to avoid Christmas, up until the middle of December.  Someone tried to put up a fake cardboard Christmas Tree in our office, but a, uh, tragic accident occured and it had to be thrown in the bin. 

Part of the benefit of working from home, in an environment with lots of people from a non-Christian background is that there is no real pressure to put up decorations, no endless and tiresome Christmas songs during the daily commute, and no office party I'm expected to attend.  Instead, by this time next week 90% of my shopping will be done, and a few days before Xmas, I will head to my parents place, eat too much, drink too much, exchange gifts and get a couple of weeks of good sleep without any disturbances.

You see, the thing is, I don't necessarily dislike Christmas.  I'm not even adverse to the tiresome "commercialization of Christmas" crap of the wannabe Naomi Kleins of postmodernity.  I just want to like it on my own terms, my usually cool and understated fashion, instead of having it shoved down my throat and forced to wear a stupid grin while I warble on about how "this is the most wonderful time of year".  The social expectations, the baggage, is what bores me.  As with most things, now I come to consider it.

But anyway.  The point is, I'm going to avoid it for as long as seems necessary, and then engage in it entirely on my own terms.  And I will enjoy it.  And I might just have a small, mocking laugh for those who pontificate about the consumer frenzy of Xmas (because, you know, Christmas is special) or those who stress themselves to the point of nervous collapse over the whole thing.

Problem:  Americans are very, very aggressive with their "good cheer" and all that shit.

It's very hard to enjoy the season without committing actual mayhem.

[Cain]

Fortunately, I deal mostly with Chinese and Iranians, who are not so keen on Christmas, as a rule.  Oh, and Russians, but Russians don't do "cheer" of any sort.  When they try, it looks like a pain induced grimace.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Fortunately, I deal mostly with Chinese and Iranians, who are not so keen on Christmas, as a rule.  Oh, and Russians, but Russians don't do "cheer" of any sort.  When they try, it looks like a pain induced grimace.

This is why I've always had a soft spot for Russians, warts and all.

Hell, one of them wrote The Bronze Horseman, which was basically the story of my life from 1993-2003 or so.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

I mostly get to avoid Christmas, up until the middle of December.  Someone tried to put up a fake cardboard Christmas Tree in our office, but a, uh, tragic accident occured and it had to be thrown in the bin. 

Part of the benefit of working from home, in an environment with lots of people from a non-Christian background is that there is no real pressure to put up decorations, no endless and tiresome Christmas songs during the daily commute, and no office party I'm expected to attend.  Instead, by this time next week 90% of my shopping will be done, and a few days before Xmas, I will head to my parents place, eat too much, drink too much, exchange gifts and get a couple of weeks of good sleep without any disturbances.

You see, the thing is, I don't necessarily dislike Christmas.  I'm not even adverse to the tiresome "commercialization of Christmas" crap of the wannabe Naomi Kleins of postmodernity.  I just want to like it on my own terms, my usually cool and understated fashion, instead of having it shoved down my throat and forced to wear a stupid grin while I warble on about how "this is the most wonderful time of year".  The social expectations, the baggage, is what bores me.  As with most things, now I come to consider it.

But anyway.  The point is, I'm going to avoid it for as long as seems necessary, and then engage in it entirely on my own terms.  And I will enjoy it.  And I might just have a small, mocking laugh for those who pontificate about the consumer frenzy of Xmas (because, you know, Christmas is special) or those who stress themselves to the point of nervous collapse over the whole thing.

Problem:  Americans are very, very aggressive with their "good cheer" and all that shit.

It's very hard to enjoy the season without committing actual mayhem.

The problem with what happened to Christmas is that we no longer have a proper Halloween. See, one of the things that those headhunting Celts that gave us that was a good idea was the idea of a holiday completely devoted to horrible shit, and celebrating that which dark in our nature. A cutting loose if you will, at the end of the harvest. But we commercialized both Halloween and Christmas. Commercializing a holiday seems like a natural thing in a capitalist society, and indeed, it's usually not a harmless thing. The commercialization of Christmas should be expected.

But the commercialization of Halloween had an unintended effect. We cut its balls off and made it about kids getting candy and women dressing up as "slutty [insert any occupation in here, including celibate clergy]" and men as some sort of walking pun and/or douchebag. No. Halloween is no longer a holiday for the Things^TM. Whether the SpiritWorld^TM actually exists or not is irrelevant. The Things^TM are very very real. And we gave them a holiday where we gave them their due. And then we took it away from them. So now the Things^TM show up on the doorstep, looking for their own brand of Tricks and Treats that don't involve cute little children sifting through to get a peanut butter cup instead of one of those weird candies that always populate the bowl at the end of the night. And they don't get them. The Things^TM get restless, and need more for propitiation.

They see us glut ourselves on turkey and cold mashed potatoes, and they can smell the tension mounting in us, too. For we need to appease the Things^TM as much as they need us to. They lurk just behind the doors of the Walmart, taunting us, daring us to come in, to smash down the door. They entrance us with their promises of sales.

They cackle, and ride the waves of insanity flooding out of you when you hear that Paul McCartney song play for the first time in 11 months, because you know, hate it as much as you want, it will be stuck in your head for the next month.

Christmas time is no longer a season to celebrate peace and goodwill. No. The Things^TM need their blood orgy, and they will take it in any form they can trick out of us.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

I mostly get to avoid Christmas, up until the middle of December.  Someone tried to put up a fake cardboard Christmas Tree in our office, but a, uh, tragic accident occured and it had to be thrown in the bin. 

Part of the benefit of working from home, in an environment with lots of people from a non-Christian background is that there is no real pressure to put up decorations, no endless and tiresome Christmas songs during the daily commute, and no office party I'm expected to attend.  Instead, by this time next week 90% of my shopping will be done, and a few days before Xmas, I will head to my parents place, eat too much, drink too much, exchange gifts and get a couple of weeks of good sleep without any disturbances.

You see, the thing is, I don't necessarily dislike Christmas.  I'm not even adverse to the tiresome "commercialization of Christmas" crap of the wannabe Naomi Kleins of postmodernity.  I just want to like it on my own terms, my usually cool and understated fashion, instead of having it shoved down my throat and forced to wear a stupid grin while I warble on about how "this is the most wonderful time of year".  The social expectations, the baggage, is what bores me.  As with most things, now I come to consider it.

But anyway.  The point is, I'm going to avoid it for as long as seems necessary, and then engage in it entirely on my own terms.  And I will enjoy it.  And I might just have a small, mocking laugh for those who pontificate about the consumer frenzy of Xmas (because, you know, Christmas is special) or those who stress themselves to the point of nervous collapse over the whole thing.

Problem:  Americans are very, very aggressive with their "good cheer" and all that shit.

It's very hard to enjoy the season without committing actual mayhem.

The problem with what happened to Christmas is that we no longer have a proper Halloween. See, one of the things that those headhunting Celts that gave us that was a good idea was the idea of a holiday completely devoted to horrible shit, and celebrating that which dark in our nature. A cutting loose if you will, at the end of the harvest. But we commercialized both Halloween and Christmas. Commercializing a holiday seems like a natural thing in a capitalist society, and indeed, it's usually not a harmless thing. The commercialization of Christmas should be expected.

But the commercialization of Halloween had an unintended effect. We cut its balls off and made it about kids getting candy and women dressing up as "slutty [insert any occupation in here, including celibate clergy]" and men as some sort of walking pun and/or douchebag. No. Halloween is no longer a holiday for the Things^TM. Whether the SpiritWorld^TM actually exists or not is irrelevant. The Things^TM are very very real. And we gave them a holiday where we gave them their due. And then we took it away from them. So now the Things^TM show up on the doorstep, looking for their own brand of Tricks and Treats that don't involve cute little children sifting through to get a peanut butter cup instead of one of those weird candies that always populate the bowl at the end of the night. And they don't get them. The Things^TM get restless, and need more for propitiation.

They see us glut ourselves on turkey and cold mashed potatoes, and they can smell the tension mounting in us, too. For we need to appease the Things^TM as much as they need us to. They lurk just behind the doors of the Walmart, taunting us, daring us to come in, to smash down the door. They entrance us with their promises of sales.

They cackle, and ride the waves of insanity flooding out of you when you hear that Paul McCartney song play for the first time in 11 months, because you know, hate it as much as you want, it will be stuck in your head for the next month.

Christmas time is no longer a season to celebrate peace and goodwill. No. The Things^TM need their blood orgy, and they will take it in any form they can trick out of us.

Two things: 

1.  WOW.

2.  I support this sort of thing.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Sometimes I don't know how to respond to a post.

This is not one of those times. 

[LMNO]

You'd think the inevitable slaughter on Black Friday(Thursday) of those trapped under the thundering stampede of Mammon would appease them, but mere blood and snapped spines isn't good enough for the Things™.  They thrive on Despair, and Frustration, on Horror and Spite, so an evening of rampaging consumerism won't do it.  They™ live under cloverleaf overpasses, delighting in the sounds of holiday gridlock, they stalk the queues at the post office as you try to mail packages, they lurk in the supply closet during your mandatory "non-denominational holiday party" where the Atheists, Jews, and Muslims are forced to sing Christmas Carols.  And when the morning comes, where millions of dysfunctional families gather together in resentment, depression, and passive-aggresive bitterness, THEY FEAST.

[Anna Mae Bollocks]

This thread = The True Meaning Of Christmas.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

You'd think the inevitable slaughter on Black Friday(Thursday) of those trapped under the thundering stampede of Mammon would appease them, but mere blood and snapped spines isn't good enough for the Things™.  They thrive on Despair, and Frustration, on Horror and Spite, so an evening of rampaging consumerism won't do it.  They™ live under cloverleaf overpasses, delighting in the sounds of holiday gridlock, they stalk the queues at the post office as you try to mail packages, they lurk in the supply closet during your mandatory "non-denominational holiday party" where the Atheists, Jews, and Muslims are forced to sing Christmas Carols.  And when the morning comes, where millions of dysfunctional families gather together in resentment, depression, and passive-aggresive bitterness, THEY FEAST.

This explains "Post-holiday" depression.  And they FUCK WITH YOUR HEAD for 2 months ahead of time.  Just try turning on the TV.  I went looking for more GOP tears, and Good Lord, I saw an Immodium commercial which infers that Santa Claus has diarrhea and that he is likely to have a violent gastro-intestinal accident in my chimney.  Well isn't that just a GREAT ENDING to the year!  How is that supposed to entice me to buy this product?  And what about that little terrier pulling on Saint Nick's pants cuff?  What happens to HIM if Santa lets go suddenly?  Why, he runs straight to YOUR BED and rolls around, trying to get it off, of course.  Its a dog thing.  Bad scene all the way around.

Besides, the old man is eating the whole night long; he's bound to run across some tainted eggnog or a spackling-based cookie and have some sort of bowel discomfort.  I saw him do a spot on some channel where he just SLURPED down a half gallon of milk and then jammed a buncha cookies in his mouth like some snorting hog, while a horrified mother & daughter looked on.  It was all so degrading.  I think he has an eating disorder and some sort of repression going on.

And what's he doing out there in sub-zero temperatures, anyway?  Its time for a younger man to take over.  Santa is a worn old knob and it just won't do for him to stroke out and crash that rig into an elementary school or a car dealership.  Give him a decent pension, but for God's sake get him out of the air.  He's going to blink at the wrong moment, get those reindeer sucked into an Airbus and hundreds will die.  Hark the herald lawsuits sing.

And gee, if he's crapping in chimneys, are we going to take the hint in time or what?  I appreciate the giant robot he brought me back in 1975, which is why I feel compelled to look out for him now.  Let's not be selfish about the season of giving; let's provide Santa with the rest he so richly deserves.  Besides, I want that sleigh so I can get to Amsterdam more easily.  Yes, its beginning to look a lot like Hash for Christmas, ho ho HO!  But mainly I just don't wanna have to shinny up my chimney with a gas mask, a wire brush and a bottle of Clorox.  Bleach on Earth and good pills to men, amen.

Talk about pursuits that make even God scratch His head...A big old Heinz-y dog used to chase our ancient Volvo every time we left the house, so one day my Luciferian mother screeches to a halt, leans out the window and yells at the dog, "WELL, YA CAUGHT IT, YA STUPID SON OF A BITCH!  NOW WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH IT?"  The dog, of course, just sits there and cocks his head at the yowling of the insane woman.  The pre-Christmas vapor lock can leave you in the same position as this dog.  At least the dog knew when he'd been had and didn't try to gnaw on the bumper.  That made him smarter than some of the people I have known, including myself.  Sometimes you want what you want with such feriocity that by the time you get it, your Wanter is burned to a crisp and all you can do is stare at the object of your former desire.  I don't always love having perspective, but that which allows you to apply better focus to the latest jihad of trumped-up have-tos is a beautiful thing.

Don't assume that Christmas is the only time people prove that they're thinking with their assholes, either.  I scanned past Nickelodeon and there I saw a kid grinning widely while smashing eggs on his head, one after another.  And people say *I* have some sort of mental disorder.  Fuckers.  I'm not the guy mashing eggs onto my head.

I feel especially vulnerable during the holiday Tourette's-go-round.  I actually laughed at Adam Sandler.  Something about making an Oscar into a bong and DEAR GOD, I LAUGHED AT IT, AAAIEEEE! *shakes head*.  I knew I was messed up, but geez...I'm losing any sense of standards whatsoever.

If I laugh at Will Ferrell, kill me.  Kill me dead.  There's still some hope for me because I'd like to see that quacky twit's butchered thighs hanging from a hook in some fly-ridden Somalian market stall.  Remember how much you wanted to kill those ultra-happy, grinning & religious optimists in high school?  I'd like to kill one right now.  Let off a little tension.  Anyway, I guess almost any laugh you get should be appreciated, but to laugh at Adam Sandler...Man, I just feel all dirty.

Pre-holiday angst, my entire ass.  You all are terminal fools, which you have proven by dashing through the SNOW, leaving the poor horse trapped in the wreckage of the sleigh to slowly freeze to death, just so you can slurp from a bleeping GRAVY boat, which has already developed a skin on top, guaranteeing that you will clumsily decorate your Hamtaro action vest and Ma's nice linen tablecloth with the aftermath of your ill-bred doofishness.  What a jerk!  You're taking that damned horse in your lunch until every tendon is GONE.  Do you think my brain is made of some super-high-tech heat shielding, a pure carbon frontspiece capable of shrugging off 4000 degrees C of B.S. like it was just some bayou gnat?  You guys really press me to the wall with that eye-popping wankery, but it does serve a useful purpose; it makes me feel better about my own failings.  I would have just made burgers from the horse up front and stayed home where it was warm.  Besides, Ma's cooking tastes like anthrax pudding.

Precious moments, wasted hours: yeah, whatever, fuck off.  Don't get me started.  I didn't WILLFULLY waste most of them.    I mailed out my gifts, fought the crowds a little and said the Right Things to some folks who deserved to hear it, so let me the fuck ALONE; I'm square with the house.  I FIST your narrow views and distant judgements.  Then I end it with a really great "hide the engineer boot".  Truly, I am the Henry Rollins of gift-giving.  But don't worry about ME; some folks are so far gone, they'll dance on your ribs in the mall to save 20% on a Wii.  Not me, though, I'm a civilized man.  No, really.

I don't always practice what I preach because I'm not the kind of person I'm preaching TO, but I also know the power and the pleasure of being validated to hell and gone because I broke the Loop when I was finally seen as not TRYING to preach, but simply to Get Across.  When you have no agenda and are able to get someone to see it, that's when you move to the next level, where the real rewards begin to take shape.  Post-storm air always seems to be the cleanest, because the chaff and crap have been washed away, so to speak.

What does this insane jabber have to do with Christmas, or anything else?  Not all that much.  It's just time for my pills.  Hey, it has an internal logic you can crack, but you'll have to take your OWN pills to manage it.  Now I lay me down to sleep, thank God for pills so I don't freak.  So stuff yer holly bush, resin-cast reindeer and mall psychosis.  I care little for the traditional holidays; I can make my own anytime.  Merry Whatever-Ya-Got, that's the ticket.  Gimme another one o' them Christmas bacon-burgers, there, baby.

Now, fuck off.  TGRR needs his alone time.