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Wassail, you wassailer you!

It’s Christmas Eve! If you’re an observer of the holiday and actually reading this on the 24th of December, you’re either killing time until you can leave work, killing time until the relatives show up, or are already ready to kill your goddamn relatives and are desperate for a distraction. Whatever the reason you’re here, MERRY CHRISTMAS!

(You know it’s a special holiday because I’ve already blown a year’s worth of exclamation points in the first paragraph of this post.)

For those of you who don’t observe the day, and, more to the point, have somehow managed to avoid the waves of commercialism Lucy and Linus warned us about (“Christmas is not only getting too commercial, it’s getting too dangerous.”), let me paint the scene playing out around the world. If you’re reading this after Christmas, just consider this your eggnog flashback.

All over the world, good little boys and girls are clutching their Red Ryder carbine action range model air rifles in cobalt blue with the compass in the stock. Frosty the Snowman is in a puddle in the corner. Or maybe Hermie the elf just peed himself (should have been a urologist instead of a dentist) when the Bumble showed up. Rudolph’s red nose is lighting the way for Yukon Cornelius to get to rehab to get cured off the Wild Turkey.

Cousin Eddie kidnapped your boss in the RV, but Scrooge evicted him from in front of the Griswold’s house. If Clark is electrocuted hanging 200,000 imported Italian twinkle lights (“the little lights, they’re not twinkling”) well, Scrooge will be happy with the decrease in the surplus population.

Tim Allen pushed Santa off your roof and hijacked the sleigh. Expect to find a selection of Binford brand power tools and Disney apparel under your tree Christmas morning.

The Muppets played out “A Christmas Novel” with Tiny Tim being portrayed by a frog. Just as Dickens intended.

A cadre of mall Santas occupied the Orange Julius, bringing the holiday shopping season to a halt.

Charlie Brown was sued by various environmental groups for killing that defenseless tree.

Grandma got run over by a reindeer; a lesser known facet of Obama’s death panels.

Traffic on the country’s major bridges had to be diverted from all the flooding that occurred as thousands of fruitcakes threw themselves into oceans and rivers because the “just couldn’t take the insults anymore”.

Countless friendships were ruined when one of the friends took “let’s not exchange gifts this year” seriously.

I had to take out a loan to bring to fruition my plan to play “52 card pickup” with store gift cards at every store in the mall, but it was totally worth it.

My dream of a new holiday novelty song we can all rally behind until it’s run into the ground like the Bob and Doug McKenzie brother’s 12 days of Christmas or “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” goes unfulfilled. Yet again.

All snark aside, here’s hoping you have a happy, joyous, relatively debt and/or felony-free holiday season. Hope 2014 ain’t all bad either.


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