Christmas is basically on our door step! It's crouched like a maniacal red and green strangler, lying in wait, to choke the life out of you as you let the dog out to take a shit! It's practically breathing down our collective scrotum. Okay...that might be a little much...but, it is approaching,fast. Like a fucking vulture swooping in to pick over your already financially defunct bones. Damned Jesus and his corporate affiliates! Alright, enough with the similes, it's fucking coming is what I'm saying.
Christmas is astronomical when it comes to shopping for kids. I might have to mug the fuck out of old people on their way home from church bingo (Sorry, Jesus, but, prayer doesn't pay much as a good mugging these days.), just to afford it. Note to future parents, as your beautiful child ages...everything it does, wants and wishes for is damned fucking expensive. When they're little, kids toys are basically hollowed out plastic. You don't need much material when you're making shit that, by design, needs to resist being swallowed whole. The older a kid gets, the more their toys take on technical aspects, like, screens...and bullets...and bullet screens. All of these things ramp up the cost to compensate for the perceived awesomeness of the toy...until the newer shit comes out a month later. What does this mean for parents? Another mortgage on the house to buy this shit, is what it means. Much like herpes, every subsequent outbreak of Christmas seems to get more expensive and itchy than the last.
Fucking Christmas. The price for shit we don't actually need keeps going up. It's unreal. Even bizarre things like the twelve days of Christmas stuff. Check it out! Soon, it's going to be like paying for a chartered flight on Air Force One, to privately screen a necro porn flick involving Bill Gates blowing Steve Job's corpse, while being slathered with crude oil mixed with thousand dollar bills. If your not sure how much that would cost, you don't understand money, you're probably negligent with it and may harm kittens and or bunnies coated in love in the process...so you should send it to me.
I want your kids!..er...
to give presents to your kids.
Weed presents.
Someone's about to get a little naughty shoved up their list
...with a side order of herps. Ho hoooo yeah.
Also accepting: gold bullion, silver ingots and cheese
As expensive as it is...and will be, I don't mind it. Christmas does seem magical to me, in a non-monetarily, soul sucking way. Not by much though. It's just the thought of all that money, disappearing like a million voices screaming out and suddenly being silenced, seems chilling. What the shit does Jesus and the Get Fresh Crew need all that fucking money for anyway? Burlap robes are crazy cheap? I should know. I looked into wearing them as a way to cut down on my clothing budget, in order to afford more presents. I gave up on it, however. Burlap rubbing up against my "precious pieces" is like slowly sandblasting...well, exactly like sandblasting your genitals. I'll get over it. It's once a year and I do like giving presents to my kids. They light up with happiness for a while and I smile. Wonderful memories are created that I hope, will last a life time. That's something you can't put a price on. Not readily anyway. I'm sure there's a think tank out there, sacrificing weekends and cocaine binges to find out. So, I need to roll up my sleeves...and maybe give a serious thought to a bit of male prostitution or perhaps selling off a few spare organs and I'll be ready for Christmas. Shit, maybe at the same time! That's a deal! Sex and organs. It's practically a company name.
Open for business!
