Fun with Christmas

Christmas time is almost here, so I'm obligated to dedicate at least one post to it, I suppose. Or at least a paragraph.

Christmas is that time of year when we get presents. Some are large, some are small. They come in many colors: black, white, brown, yellow, red, and green. But they are all equal in our sight and the sight of God, until we open them and find out that someone got us this instead of this. Then we realize that as bright and cheery as they may have seemed on the outside, they really were just full of crap the whole time--just like bees, bees that are full to the brim with fecal matter.

I apologize for that paragraph, which was nothing more than an excuse to link excessively to stuff neither you nor I care about anyway (with the possible exception of Halo 2).

What is infinitely more important, though, is the shocking realization that the very act of blogging presupposes that you actually -do- something about which you can write, which in my case could not be farther from the truth. Today I woke up, and I considered that alone an act requiring great sacrifice. Then, so that I could rationalize the consumption of a mountain of free Twix bars from the dorm vending machine that the company has not yet fixed, I went to the gym. There I realized that people who go to the gym four days before Christmas are of a similar physio-psychological profile: dumpy, mean, and glum. We are the few to whom Christmas means losing five pounds before Christmas so that we won't have to feel guilty about gaining it all back in one meal. After that, I came back to my dorm room, and I haven't done anything productive since. Including writing this.

Man, this one started off rather well, and now it's turning to crap just like all the others (I could be talking about this post, or I could be talking about the booger that I just finished eating). (Or did I just eat a booger at all?) (You don't know because I am separated from you by this wonderful thing called the Internet.) (Ha!) But really, I started off with incredible references to Christmas presents filled with feces and ended talking about the general lack of productivity that sums up my existence. How crapful.

Well, to everyone who reads mine blog, a group of people that may or may not exist outside my own mind, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.

and... Happy Hannukah.

and... Happy Kwanzaa.

and... Happy I-don't-celebrate-the-holidays-because-I'm-an-angry-vegetarian-atheist Day!

and... if any of you angry, vegetarian or meatatarian atheists are considering celebrating Christmas--well, I don't think so. Deacon Fred says you shouldn't. The Nazis weren't the first people to think of burning people with furnaces, you know. No, no. God was one step ahead of 'em! Just keep THAT in mind when you're thinking of putting those candles on your tree. Think of your and your childrens' flame-ridden corpses--and be full of holiday cheer!

And always remember the true spirit of this holiday season: “Merry Christmas, And Fine Shooting, From Your Best Friend, Jesus Christ.”