And So it Has Begun,

And so it has begun. Christmas Season, 2012.

The first gunshots could be heard in the US on Black Friday as people swarmed into WalMart and other stores with elbows flying, guns a blazin’ and knives a stabbin’!

For what? The next great gadget or toy? Black Friday is a good name but , “Look at the Morons Lined Up in the Cold to buy Crap they Don’t Need”, although not as catchy as Black Friday, better describes the scene.

“It’s a tradition!” interviewees of local broadcasters proclaimed. Tradition? What the Hell is wrong with you? “Well last year I only got stabbed once and merely grazed by a .45 caliber slug. This year I’m going all in and hoping for a full exit 9mm hole on my leg or shoulder!” IF this your tradition, to slug it out in armed combat for a Penelope Pees A Lot Doll, you’re an asshole. Thanks for helping to flush the toilet of humanity.

Let me get this straight. You wait in line for days, to buy crap you don’t need at a price you think is great, with a credit card that is set to explode. I don’t get it. These are things. Gadgets. They are time wasters. Distracters.  

I am the last person on the planet who would ask you to hug, hold hands and sing folk songs around a fire in the belief that World Peace could be achieved by doing so. Unity is great thing but individuality is better.

Observing others has become a bit of a past time for me lately. Over the last few weeks when I venture into the grocery store or drug store or wherever, I have clearly noticed what the Christmas Season does to us. Refraining from tossing shopping carts out of the way from people who block the aisles, I wait. I watch. Like clockwork there is always someone who will be so put out by this older woman who is looking for baking supplies that their arms go up in disgust, their head whips back and the “Tccchhhh!” sound comes screaming out of their noise holes. Ass! She’s 80 years old! Help her put the flour in her cart and shut up. Waiting in line at the video store there is inevitably a person who needs to ask a question that never seems to end. Let it go. If only for the Christmas Season, let it go. So you get home sixty seconds later. Let it go.

This Christmas, take a few minutes to remember what Christmas is about. The spirit of the Season lies in giving and not receiving. Simple acts of kindness are great gifts. Help someone put their groceries in their car. Go visit the older couple whose kids aren’t coming to visit them for Christmas with a bottle of wine. Take the kids and donate even five dollars to the Pediatrics Ward of your local hospital or the Humane Society or whatever Charity you believe in. People will remember these gifts long after the tree is taken down and toys are broken.

Simply being nice to one another, helping where you can, is how we achieve peace. What better time to start than now.

For those of you scratching your heads and wondering what the hell is wrong with me I can say these things;

1)      I am not suffering from trauma to my brain or body

2)      I have every intention of continuing to be a Jack Ass. I am going to be a helpful Jack Ass achieving it by sarcasm, humiliation or other diabolical means.

But I heard him exclaim ... as he rode out of sight,
" Merry Christmas to All ,
  Be nice to each other or I’m coming back to see you with a baseball bat " Or something           like that.   

Merry Christmas to All, and to all, a good night. 

Here We Are

Here We Are.

Tis’ the season, to tolerate crying kids, pissed off adults and horrible parking lot traffic.

I don’t ‘shop’. I don’t like crowds. If I am buying something I like to haggle. These qualities (or deficiencies) in me basically mean that if step foot in a mall, I will spontaneously combust- is it spontaneous if you know it will happen?

My brother has two kids. One boy –whom I call ‘the Boy’, and one niece, whom everyone calls ‘Bob’ for some reason.  When they were little kids Lori and I would split Christmas shopping for them. The “Boy” got Legos, or remote control cars from me. Bob got frilly fru fru dresses from Aunt Lori. It was a great system. It was fun watching the niece and nephew spaz out when they opened all of their gifts. It made Christmas fun. That and the abundance of alcohol my brother and sister in law provided freely.

Now they are hitting their teen years and they both have much more advanced vocabularies than I do. I’m now known as Uncle Caveman. Good old Uncle Caveman.

It’s not as much fun at Christmas now. I can’t buy the boy a pellet gun. The boy wants Airsoft or Paintball gear. That stuff is more expensive and causes less permanent damage than a pellet gun.  Remember the neighbourhood kid with the stutter? He didn’t used to stutter until I got my first pellet gun.  When it comes to Niece Bob I am at a complete loss. I don’t have kids and if I did have kids I am not the type of guy who should raise a daughter.  I’m a little rough around the edges for that adventure. God give her a good sense of humour if she looked like me too, and a lot if razors.

Now the kids want Gift Cards for iTunes, or simple bank transfers to their accounts. I have never transferred funds ‘electronically’ and I am hopeful that I never do. Smug little pishers!

Funny how time changes us. I’m pretty sure we all ‘see’ the same things. We all react differently – or don’t react at all to Christmas circumstances. I see men in varying states of pain during the season to be festive. I  see women getting obsessive about having the perfect Christmas party- I haven’t been invited to any of these parties but I  see it through their windows.  Relax.  Nothing on this planet is ever perfect. Imperfection is the sauce of life.

As machines become more and more efficient and perfect, so it will become clear that imperfection is the greatness of man.
Ernst Fischer

Put the turkey in the oven late-more time to drink and talk. Let the kids peel off their ridiculous sweaters and run rampant. It’s one day. Only one day. So what if all your wine glasses don’t match.  I’d drink wine from a dog’s bowl if I were having fun with friends and family. Triviality. We focus too much on things that are ‘fluff’, They look good. They taste good. There’s uneasiness about the situation though. I better use the right fork and gods forbid I break wind or I will destroy the effort she put into this day. Women! Relax. Have fun. Let all of the foibles of the day guide us. Imperfection is perfection. Glasses will break. Tablecloths will be ruined. Grandma will spill the beans on Mary Sue’s 5-month pregnancy and chaos may occur. Breathe it in. These are the best of times.

We are who we are. We don’t have to know each other. We don’t need to like each other for whatever misconceived notion we hold. One day. One day is all we need. Drink. Laugh. Eat. Joke. Tell Stories. Sit back and think.  Watch the kids run pandemonium gauntlets. Watch cousin Ray’s elbow slide of the mantle midway through his drunken epistle. Smell the burnt whatever erupting from the kitchen. Is it perfect? No. Would you change it for the world? I hope not.

This Christmas I ask that you realize- Christmas will never be perfect. It can’t be. There is no fun if it is. Let it go. Ride the whirlwind. Take it all in and enjoy.

Had not been for the sweetest woman I have ever known I would not know these things to be true. Merry Christmas to all and thank you,  Mrs. Anderson for being and showing me the true meaning.

God Bless.