A journal of questionable quality

Thursday, December 20, 2007

neurocognitive deficient

Immune to Christmas?
Christmas. I deride it every single year.
I will continue to. Something about the guy in the red suit and the 3 wise men just refuses to add up—no matter what order you put it in.

We are at Thursday/Friday in the week before Christmas. People are already doing the shopping mall thing. Yvonne is anyway. She managed to take the day care kids, by bus, and meet one of her own at the biggest mall on this side of town yesterday. Such devotion to the art of shopping.

I know why people have big meltdowns in malls and shoot people, I understand completely. Not saying anywhere here that I condone it of course, although I might be prevailed upon to provide some ammo should anyone feel like going out in style. It depends on the weapon you're going to use. Anything as small as a .22 and you get nothing from me. Ramp up to a 9mm, auto, or more and I'm willing to look.

I try, every year, to get off on the idea of the season. The dude in the suit and the snow just doesn't cut it here on a 40 degree day. No snow. No need for a large red suit to keep warm. He should be banished to colder. more believable places on earth, let us get on with the idea of Christmas; drink too much at the office party, sit on the photocopier, bang the boss and make it obvious, and all the other unseemly things that happen when people forget they have to face the very same people, sober, possibly the next day.

Christmas Day here will be hot, sultry, humid, sweaty, possibly overcast, and totally uncomfortable. With luck we will manage to avoid the standard hot lunch—it was never designed for a tropical, sub tropical climate. We will probably end up somewhere with a pool.

I think I am the grinch in disguise. I abhor the Christmas morning rush. I refuse outright to drive a car anywhere least someone feels the need to run into me—worse still, run into someone else, which may require me to offer some sort of assistance—a Christmas charity. Like I feel like puffing into someone's blue lips - damn, what a horrible thought..

Was a time when on Christmas day you would find a deathly still over the place; nothing open, nothing at all, drive around in profound silence. The place looking like a ghost town.
That was before they managed to get into holiday trading. Open 24 hours a day. Every day of the year they tell me.


We have, after receiving all the Christmas gifts, hanging off an overworked plastic card, just time to eat and a quick nap before going back and doing it all over again.

The Boxing day sales. Where all the stuff that we paid an inflated retail for will now show up on a discount table. That's one thing I will ever get used to. Why not just go shopping on Boxing day, gather everything you need at a discount, and have a special 'after Christmas', Christmas if you see what I mean.

I'm still in favour of the madman with the gun, Not just malls, roaming the streets, suburban streets as well, suburban streets at random. Stop. Take out a couple of citizens, move on. Giving people something to make their Christmas memorable. Just do it. Just like they do in America every week. Make yourself famous this Christmas, go down in history.


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