Wow...Quite the prolific writer as of late...

To Whom It Most Likely Does Not Concern...

As a former cartoon enthusiast, black licorice QA tester, bike crash entrepreneur, and all-around local celebrity, I guess I've sorta forgot I had this blog...and apparently the ability to put words together in sentence format. 

But Look There...above...I've done it! 

To those in the know, yes, I'm writing a book. Or something similar. Less plot, more narrative.

Stay tooned....

c

Neat

Merry Christmas Kids!

Merry Happy Kwanzchristannukuh...aww what the fu...

Oh hi!

As our holy moly-ist holiday shows up in shabby red slacks on a ramshackle wooden sled with stinky flying beasts and a cookie encrusted white beard, I really thought it appropriate to throw a few words toward the menace, the malice and the majesty that is our mis-celebration of your lord and savior.

Yes, I said a mis-celebration. Relax, take a breath. No... Seriously.. you’re turning purple.

I said mis-celebration because even if Jesus was really born, he was most likely birthed around April or March and some argue around six months after Passover. The early adopters of the Christian religion thought it would be a peachy idea to piggyback our Pagan brethren and absorb a few of their super sweet sinful ideas about celebrations.

Back when Babylon wasn’t a horrifying, constantly detonating little nugget known as Iraq, the denizens of that area would have willing enjoyed the feast of the Son of Isis (Goddess of Nature) and just happened to celebrate this debauched occasion on ... you guessed it — Dec. 25!

Since then, puking, partying, irresponsible eating and mindless gift-giving have been a winter tradition.

As I tap these words on my laptop, I can only imagine that Sinterclaas is throwing S’Nick points my way toward a new tech toy to review on All Hands on Tech.  (On general principle, if you have an iPad, I’m in a mortal technological war with you. ‘Cept I’m writing this on my Macbook Pro. Double Agent!) or something else technologically fancy on which I can beep-boop-bop my way toward pointless celebrity gossip satisfaction and online zombie killing.

Perhaps an Xbox One so I can forgo any restricting controllers and flail around my living room as only Jesus would have done in his tiny, dirt-floored carpenter’s shack.

How do I give and accept gifts on the most religious of holidays when I am very obviously not a big believer in all things religion?

Tradition.

Though my daughter Samantha sometimes makes me want to kick a bag of puppies, I don’t feel the need to rob her of the pure joy that I had as a kid when I would sneak out of bed in the wee hours of Christmas Day, much to the chagrin of my poor beleaguered parents. It was common knowledge that I liked to get a 3am preview of what Santa had left under the tree and what fantastic little knick-knacks he’d left in my stocking.

Looking back, my favorite part of Christmas on Naranca Street was that none of it had any religious overtones. It was about my family being together and enjoying a day of giving to each other. 

Unfortunately, Christmas is constantly being pulled in different directions, with Fox News saying we’re trying to stir up their lame War on Christmas meme every December and Black Friday and Cyber Monday opening your eyes to just how silly and commercial it’s become.

But X-Mas is still fun for me. I know it’s bullshit but seeing my kid’s faces light up reminds me why I’d sneak through my house as a kid, hoping to catch a glimpse of that fat bastard eating the cookies I’d left for him. It was a happy time in our house.

Until my brother Chris touched my Star Wars figurines, to which swift and extreme punishment was the only appropriate solution.

In a time of ever-increasing polarization of our nation, gather your friends and relatives and just enjoy the time you have to spend together. Our holidays should be less and less about some archaic event that may or may not have happened or how much you’ll save on gifts.

They are about choosing to celebrate our time we have with one another.

But seriously, I want an Xbox One. And if Chris touches my Boba Fett figurine one more fucking time, I am seriously going to cut his head off with this pie knife.

Rejoice!

Here's another blog!

Shit.

Helvetica is the only real choice here. And I'm not even really a fan of that. I've yet to update my doorman diaries blog in quite some time. Not that any of you care. Heathen assholes.

Consider this an update then. Until I choose to vomit digitally again. Fiberoptically? Spellcheck says fiberoptically isn't a word. It is now.