Yule Find Me in a Corner, Clutching a Bottle of Whiskey
were singing "Gallway Bay"
and the bells were ringing out
on Christmas Day
The Pogues, Fairytale of New York
Christmas. A time for vomiting your throat raw from Grandma's special "eggnog" that she has been brewing in a copper still (a bad batch may send you blind, maybe permanently). A time for receiving crappy presents (ie. The JonBenet Ramsey snuff film) in an office Kris Kringle. A time for punching your boss in the face for an unintentional insult. I know that most people will find the prospect of spending Saturnalia with relatives as nauseating as watching the homemade videotape of the murder of a six-year old former Little Miss Colorado ( don't worry- the Proper Authorities have that office "gift" in their custody now and hopefully the finger print lab will be able to identify from the whorls, the tented arches and the radial loops who the sick individual was who gave me the present for the Kris Kringle) but even for the bitter cynics who wouldn't know Christmas cheer if it roundhouse kicked them in the head- it's time to celebrate the things we have.
I guess I still have my health (the flesh-eating virus has been kept at bay as long as I apply some cream on to it every hour), I have a job and a place to live. My friends still visit me regularly- even if I don't want them to. Women haven't pepper sprayed me in quite some time and have agreed to lift some of the restraining orders put against me. Overall, not a bad life thus far. Hope all is peachy on your end too, whoever you are.
Get Thee Behind Me Santa,