Friday, December 26, 2014

The Bullshit Of Christmas ~ Vol. 2 ~ The Aftermath

      Having survived the Mayan apocalypse, Hale-Bopp and a slew of Kid's Choice Awards, I know a thing or two about aftermaths. For one, there are no spontaneous orgies. Believe me, I've tried. Two; you don't win at "finder's keepers" when one of you brings a loaded shot gun and three, everything is...and will be completely fucked up. Everything. 

That's why it's called "aftermath" heh, he...am I right? Math, Right? No, seriously...am I? 

What the fuck is an aftermath? Arithmetic's crack addicted, hooker cousin? The type...so shunned they can't show up at a funeral, until everyone has left...due to all the shame. FUCK YOU AFTER MATH! WHAT YOU DID KILLED PYTHAGORAS! (sob)broke his heart and...just killed him.

Sorry, I...went off on a tangent. It won't happen again. (sniffle)

Despite aftermath's dubious origins or forays into addiction, one aftermath drives us insane, year after year. Which one you ask? Mother fuckin' Christmas. Dammit.

The Bullshit Of Christmas
~ Vol. 2 ~
The Aftermath

The Tree


Run! It's being consumed by the spirit of Christmas!

      The day has come and gone. All the presents ripped apart and enjoyed the shit out of. Now, there is the wreckage to contend with. What do you do with this monstrous goddamn tree? It's been slowly dying since a snappy entrepreneur, cut it from mother nature's bosom and sold it to you at a rock bottom price. Now, it's sprinkling it's pine needled lovin' all over your fucking living room. What the shit do you do with this tree carcass? 

My suggestion...BURN IT! BURN IT ALL!

Man, do I like a good fire, especially when it's condoned...mostly. Who doesn't like the smell of wood burning? I'll tell you who. Communists. Communists and forest rangers.

Well, I suppose you wouldn't if it was your house either, but, still. 

      Regardless, a small tip for the festive pyros among us, if you do decide to set your tree ablaze in triumph of the most brutal of holidays ...burn it on your lawn as a warning to other trees that when it comes to corpse disposal, you mean business!

Just don't shape it into a crucifix, you don't want a mix of disgusted racist looks mingling with those of sheer terror. It's just confusing and ends with a lot of bricks hurled through your windows.

Tip for next year: Invest in a plastic tree.



The Lights


The lights represent...Jesus's...love of electricity?

Never in the history of celebrating intangible things, has their been a more dubious use of lighting than Christmas. I'm including funeral pyres and Fourth of July in that too. We've been sold on the idea that stapling strings of lights to things has something to do with baby Jesus being birthed into a manger filled with dead grass. 

You make the connection. 

      I will admit, that on some inner child level, I like Christmas lights. They bring an illusion of pleasantness, to what is normally just the poverty stricken area I call home. They bathe the drug dealers and prostitutes in a warm glow of Christmas festiveness and make the purchases from either that much more meaningful.

      After all the gawking and rainbow lighted hooking, what do you do with them? The faux pas route is to leave them up all year and slough it off as "preparation" for next year. I, on the other hand, see a far more useful way to deal with them. Why undo hours of hard work? All it takes is a little rearranging to make it useful all over again.


Fuck I love Christmas lights.

Tip for next year: Bat signal style spot light with baby Jesus in the middle. One light, one off switch. Done.

The Wrapping Paper


AKA The Jesus Fire Hazard

The wrapping of gifts in overly expensive paper is one of Christmas's special forays into Hell. Hours devoted to a task that takes mere seconds to rip apart. What's it worth really? A split second of wondering what the fuck it's covering? All in all, wrapping paper seems like little more than drawing out torture, tossed on a heap of tasks already lousy with pointlessness. 

Alas, that doesn't make the piles go away. What's a paper cut laden, half awake present wrapper to do?

      Well, I'm sorry, there's no saving you this year. If you're on board with the tree firing, I suggest wrapping that tree in a fit of vengeance and sending it back to heaven in a stream of flames. Next year is a different story, people! 

Leave the shit in the bags! Not only is it more convenient, but, it turns the wrapping problem into...get this...SOMEBODY ELSE'S PROBLEM!

 

Merry Christmas, bitch!

Tip for next year: Get everyone a star named after them. Can't be expected to wrap a star! Oh, and when you have no friends afterward, you won't need to wrap presents for them the year after!

Denouement

      Christmas and it's inevitable aftermath are, unfortunately, unavoidable. We'll have to continue with it's infernal madness until we either find a new Jesus or realize that we, as a people, can buy each other shit we don't need, year round. I hope I've been able to enlighten and enrich your after Christmas hangover with a few tips absolutely no one should take seriously. Thank you. 

Now watch a drunk Santa...