Merry Whatever

Last Updated on Thursday, 24 December 2009 06:22

I get a metric crapload of emails from readers and listeners. I try to reply to everyone... when I’m sober. Sometimes even when I’ve, uh, err, swallowed a huge quantity of rum. Those of you who have received a drunken email can attest to the ‘fuzziness’ of those responses. During the holiday season I generally end every communication with “Merry Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Buddha Birthday, Allah, Allah, Oxenfree or whatever it is you celebrate.”

This makes some folks curious enough to ask what I celebrate.

I celebrate everything. I love ‘em all. It’s a friggin’ excuse to smile and have a medicinal drink. I love Christmas. Merry Fraggin’ Christmas. This nation has a long tradition of celebrating Christmas. Christmas is HUGE! Some people get offended. They are assbags.

They are the same kind of dolt who moves across the street and refuses to mow the lawn because they don’t believe in it. (Actually you’re just a lazy bastard) I’m sure some green puke will cry about the lawnmower spewing carbon monoxide. Hey, little Einstein. Photosynthesis and thus oxygen production increases during rapid growth. Older plants have a higher ratio of respiration (production of carbon monoxide) to photosynthesis (oxygen production). Mowing shit seems to promote rapid growth because as soon as I get off the mower the crap’s already heading north for my ankles. So by mowing the lawn I believe I’m creating fresh air. Plus, and more important, dickhead—we mow our friggin’ lawns here! (Plus, when your grass gets high enough I'll flatten your tires with an icepick while yer snoring and dreaming of shit to whine about)

Probably 200 million Americans celebrate Christmas. It’s not just a religious thing. It’s a welcome celebration that there is snow up to your ass—but it’s halfway over (unless you live in bumfuck Maine or something—and by the way, your summer will be on Thursday next year). It’s a time of wonder for children. It’s a cultural bedrock that accompanied a nation that, if I need to remind you, actually has shit that works. Electricity, sewers, schools, etc. Things don’t work because of government; they work in spite of it. People make things work. Everyday folks who slog through and get stuff done, day in-day out. Rain or shine. They look forward to celebrations. They look forward to an exciting break in the routine. They look forward to Christmas if only because it makes their children's eyes' go wide with joy. But, a handful of freaks cry about being offended and a whole nation pins its tail between its legs and slinks off to PoliticallyCorrect land. Why don’t you take your liberal, pansy ass over to Syria and start bitching about having to step over idiots on a prayer rug howling toward Mecca. See how that nonsense is received.

The big stores execs enact policies that avoid mentioning Christmas, yet they stock the shelves with Christmas junk. Hypocrites. Worthless slugs I hope get afflicted with horrid hemorrhoids. Who cares if it’s a big consumption spectacle? What the fuck do you do for a living? You ain’t manufacturing anything because the US doesn’t actually build stuff any longer. It’s all made somewhere else for what the US working-age populace would describe as slave wages. There’s an 80% chance yer peddling shit. Sixty of every hundred cars you see tooling back and forth are on their way to a meeting so they can peddle something. The majority of Americans are selling stuff to each other. It’s the new economy. So quit your whining about Christmas. Without it, you’d likely be unemployed.

Should we be consuming so much worthless Chinese crap built so cheap yer lucky if it lasts long enough to unpack? Who cares. It’s none of my business. Should we be celebrating? Hell yes.

I know if I go in some dark bar next week on Christmas Eve and say Merry Christmas and some rube hears it and gets offended. I can politely wish him or her a Merry Gofuckyourself. And if it’s a guy, and he really doesn’t like it, there’s nothing better to cap off Christmas than hitting some assbag so hard your hand swells up to the size of your foot and ya can’t move yer fingers for two days and the bail bondsman you keep on speed dial is in Key West drinking Rum Runners, and yer in a cell with some pinch-eyed bastard who never got anything for Christmas and he’s staring at yer ass...

Anyway, I end my emails with the all-inclusive “Merry Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Buddha Birthday, Allah, Allah, Oxenfree or whatever it is you celebrate” because I think it’s funny. Plus, you might be one of those scumbuckets who will sue me and then, when my bail bondsman gets me out, anal virginity hopefully intact, I can celebrate the New Year by stomping you and your lawyer's ass.

Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas!