Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas to anyone and everyone who reads this blog. I can't believe I'm still writing it after all these years. It hasn't been the best year, by any stretch of the imagination, but that doesn't mean it can't be a kick-ass Christmas even so!

I've already spent a semi-sober evening hanging out with a wild bunch of old high school friends in a club meeting, greeting, hugging and laughing with some of the most awesome people I ever knew, and many I never knew, but do now. I highly recommend it if you can swing it. I was lucky to go to a high school where most of the people were pretty exceptional and the girls were all hotter than a girl has a right to be. They've aged pretty well and still know how to have a good time.

For Christmas Eve I spent the day talking with family and friends from way back, and the night hanging out with my old basketball coach and his wife and some of their friends while we talked and laughed and had a good time.

I guess this Christmas I have tried to focus on spending as much time as I possibly can with people who matter to me, people I value, and people I might not get to see again in the future. We don't know what the future will bring, but this year I'm more keenly aware than in years past how much I value the people I grew up with.

Hug all the people who matter most to you this Christmas. Make sure you take whatever time they give to talk to you and listen to whatever they have to say. You might not see them again next year. You never know. And for God's sake, take a few pictures and videos of them! You'll miss them when they're gone.

Merry Christmas!!!

-

Steve in Memphis

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So This Is Christmas

It's Christmastime again, this time for the year 2010. We're expecting snow on Christmas Day, which would be cool, in more ways than one. I'm going to take some time off from work and try to rest, although God only knows what I'm actually going to end up doing. There's always a list of things to be done, whether at home or at work. I suspect when we all get up to Heaven someday, God will greet us with a list of things to do along with a requirement that we fill in estimates of when we think we'll have them done. The list will continually grow and we will spend our eternity doing this damn list. Yeah, and that's Heaven. Hell is no doubt even worse and probably involves project managers and perpetual 'scope creep', where your original task keeps growing with more and more requirements. Meanwhile, other things are added to the list and you're expected to somehow get them all done at the same time. Demons nag the shit out of you for being behind. And there's no internet in hell so you can't blog about it. And no days off. And no toilet paper in the bathrooms. And no coffee, except decaff, which you finally learn is just demons pissing in a dirty coffee pot, as you had always suspected.



I wish I was a real boy
Anyway, enough about that. What else is going on for Christmas this year? Oh yeah, President Obama is trying to push through a bunch of new appointees to our Justice Department and other top posts with great power. It's not being widely publicized (Wall Street Journal page A2, Dec 22), but I couldn't help noticing that every single one of them are Jewish women with heavy feminazi ties, and by feminazi I mean Ashkenazi, which is German for 'face like a rat.' And then I started researching a little (got lost in Googleland) and I discovered that the vast majority of Obama appointees are feminazi Jewish women. And living in Memphis as I do, I had to ask, where are all the high-ranking jobs for black men and women that he promised? Why are only a handful of his closest and highest-ranking appointees black men and black women? Why does he so often appear to be totally beholden to (owned and operated by) Jewish misandric feminist women specifically? These women didn't vote for him, not a single one. They voted for Hillary. And Hillary isn't dead (where's Dorothy with that bucket of water?) or even out of the running for the next presidential race. Yes, yes, I know that Obama is George Soros' houseboy and George Soros is a huge Ashkenazi feminazi communist momma's boy who gives millions to female supremacist hate groups around the world in the mistaken belief that one day, if he gives enough money, these man-hating Marxist mostly-lesbian womyn will magically love him and only him the way his momma never did. But even so, you would think, what with all the rap songs about "bros before hos" and shit, that Obama would take care of the brothas first, and pay back his master, Voldemort, second. But if you thought this, you would be wrong. Never underestimate the power of the Dark Side, and by 'Dark Side' I don't mean black people, because as I just said, he's not really paying back the black people very well, which was the whole point of that entire gigantic paragraph.



Barney Claus
Also happening just in time for Christmas, our Democrat-controlled Congress, with their dying breath, set free all the gay soldiers in the military (Democrats created Don't-Ask-Don't-Tell under Clinton and The very gay Press celebrated it), took over the internet so they could censor blogs like mine, sold our national security to the Russians with a Jimmy-Carter-like treaty straight out of the drug-fueled, disco 1970s, and swore to their goddess, Lilith, that they didn't mean to lie about Global Warming. And then those Death Eaters disapparated and returned to Voldemort's lair to plot their eventual return and revenge.



Pump till you puke
What else is going on? Oh yes, I have joined a new gym, where women in workout tights stand in front of a room wearing a Britney Spears-like headset and force entire groups of people to do torturous and agonizing things involving stretchy cables, dumbbells, plastic step-ups and foam mats. Meanwhile, just outside the torture room, visible through the glass windows, college girls in tiny tank-tops and shorts are sweating and exercising with weights for upcoming volleyball/basketball/softball/soccer matches against other colleges with teams of similarly sweaty girls. Alongside the sweaty college girls, old fat men are attempting to powerlift the same weight they did while they were younger while struggling not to stare too hard at the college girls. Elsewhere in the new gym, there is a tiny dark room filled with sweaty, panting people on bicycles that go nowhere. Another Britney-Spears-like person, this one a man, forces them to ride their bicycles to nowhere as fast as possible while he shouts at them and blares technopop music through giant speakers. Upstairs, people ride similar bicycles to nowhere, run treadmills to nowhere, and ellipticize on ellipticals to nowhere, all while watching big-screen TVs (checking each other out) and listening to iPods. Down below, a group of white men play basketball against one another (badly) and silently pray to God for the ability to slam dunk like Michael Jordan (never gonna happen.) And because I have joined in on all of this, I am now paying less money (I'm broke) while working out harder (vomiting) than I was before (no interruptions to listen to monologues about conspiracy theories), and as a result, I am today in severe pain unlike anything I ever experienced with the conspiracy master, LaRaza, who was my previous trainer.



Drugs? I ain't on no drugs. Whatchew tawkin' 'bout, boy?
Yesterday, as I was driving home from work, I got behind a white Toyota Celica going 40 in the passing lane on the highway. Traffic was just blowing past this turd until we came to a red light. When the light turned green, he just sat there for a minute until I had to tap my horn. Then he slooooowly accelerated up to a crawl. With all the traffic blowing past us, there was no way to get around him. When I flashed my brights, indicating to all who passed their driver's test that you are in the passing lane and clearly not passing anyone so move it or get over, he began tapping his brakes. Yeah, in a Celica. And I'm in a giant 4x4 with a steel grill-guard just right for pushing Japanese shit-piles into a ditch. He tapped his brakes and I didn't tap mine. My grill-guard went up over his rear bumper and hatch and was nearly tapping his rear window when it suddenly occurred to him that he'd better speed the fuck up or he might be visiting a bodyshop and/or hospital for Christmas. At this point, Bo Duke there stuck his fist out the window and began shaking it. Yes, seriously. And then, not satisfied with shaking his fist, he himself began to climb out of his window, turn around backwards, and scream at me. I have no idea who was steering his car at this point, but he was going so slowly anyway that it is entirely possible that no one was. The fist-shaking gentlemen had a long white beard and scraggly long hair, well matched to his sunken pale eyes, pale wrinkly skin, and bad teeth. He looked like someone who might have been kicked out of ZZ Top at some point. I had to laugh at this comical cunt going totally apeshit in front of me as a consequence of his own bad, and likely drunken, driving. But I did go ahead and sit on my horn while turning on my high beams to make absolutely certain he understood that I was not his sister and thus he should stop trying to fuck with me. I suppose he got the point. He slipped back into his seat and continued his agonizing crawl down the highway. I had reached my destination at this point and turned left to go home. At the rate he was traveling, I'll bet he's still driving right now, trying to get to wherever he was going. That is, unless someone has shot him by now.


Ahm gowna put a bullet in ye, boy!

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Merry Christmas - part VI

New Rule: Stop giving me that pop-up ad for Classmates.com! There's a reason you don't talk to people for 25 years. Because you don't particularly like them! Besides, I already know what the captain of the football team is doing these days: mowing my lawn.

New Rule: Don't eat anything that's served to you out a window unless you're a seagull. People are acting all shocked that a human finger was found in a bowl of Wendy's chili. Hey, it cost less than a dollar. What did you expect it to contain? Trout?

New Rule: Stop saying that teenage boys who have sex with their hot, blonde teachers are permanently damaged. I have a better description for these kids: lucky bastards.

New Rule: If you need to shave and you still collect baseball cards, you're gay. If you're a kid, the cards are keepsakes of your idols. If you're a grown man, they're pictures of men.

New Rule: Ladies, leave your eyebrows alone. Here's how much men care about your eyebrows: do you have two of them? Okay, we're done.

New Rule: There's no such thing as flavored water. There's a whole aisle of this crap at the supermarket - water, but without that watery taste. Sorry, but flavored water is called a soft drink. You want flavored water? Pour some scotch over ice and let it melt. That's your flavored water.

New Rule: Stop f***ing with old people. Target is introducing a redesigned pill bottle that's square, with a bigger label. And the top is now the bottom. And by the time grandpa figures out how to open it, his ass will be in the morgue. Congratulations, Target, you just solved the Social Security crisis.

New Rule: The more complicated the Starbucks order, the bigger the asshole. If you walk into a Starbucks and order a "decaf grande half-soy, half-low fat, iced vanilla, double-shot, gingerbread cappuccino, extra dry, light ice, with one Sweet-n'-Low and one NutraSweet," ooh, you're a huge asshole.

New Rule: I'm not the cashier! By the time I look up from sliding my card, entering my PIN number, pressing "Enter," verifying the amount, deciding, no, I don't want cash back, and pressing "Enter" again, the kid who is supposed to be ringing me up is standing there eating my Almond Joy.

New Rule: Just because your tattoo has Chinese characters in it doesn't make you spiritual. It's right above the crack of your ass. And it translates to "beef with broccoli." The last time you did anything spiritual, you were praying to God you weren't pregnant. You're not spiritual. You're just high.

New Rule: Competitive eating isn't a sport. It's one of the seven deadly sins. ESPN recently televised the US Open of Competitive Eating, because watching those athletes at the poker table was just too damned exciting. What's next, competitive farting? Oh wait. They're already doing that. It's called "The Howard Stern Show."

New Rule: I don't need a bigger mega M&M. If I'm extra hungry for M&Ms, I'll go nuts and eat two.

New Rule: If you're going to insist on making movies based on crappy, old television shows, then you have to give everyone in the Cineplex a remote so we can see what's playing on the other screens. Let's remember the reason something was a television show in the first place is that the idea wasn't good enough to be a movie.

New Rule: No more gift registries. You know, it used to be just for weddings. Now it's for babies and new homes and graduations from rehab. Picking out the stuff you want and having other people buy it for you isn't gift giving, it's the white people version of looting.

New Rule: and this one is long overdue: No more bathroom attendants. After I zip up, some guy is offering me a towel and a mint like I just had sex with George Michael. I can't even tell if he's supposed to be there, or just some freak with a fetish. don't want to be on your webcam, dude. I just want to wash my hands.

New Rule: When I ask how old your toddler is, I don't need to know in months. "27 Months." "He's two," will do just fine. He's not a cheese. And I didn't really care in the first place.

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