I first wrote this overly sweet, soppy, schmaltzy piece that even made me sick about the miracle of Christmas.
Well, screw that, and Jane I’ll apologize beforehand. Jane’s an angel who will no doubt get the best suite in heaven for all her good works on earth. If I’m lucky, I’ll be working in Housekeeping, making beds.
See, I’m open, since there very well might be a heaven with a Ritz Hotel and valet parking. Ya just never know.
Frankly, I’m worn out from the drum roll, the monetary expectations, and the beggars on every corner, and I’m not talking about those truly in need. I’m speaking of the professional hustlers who cry on cue like mama dolls Mattel makes. I had one, Chatty Kathy. She cried, cooed and pooped by pulling a string in the back of her head.
I’ve learned to look at their footwear, a dead giveaway to their scam. If I don’t see at least one toe sticking out, I’m unmoved. So Bah Humbug, with a cherry on top.
I want to add how fucking tired I am of Donald Trump who has become a source of embarrassment as far as I’m concerned. Balls to your wall Donald. How bout feeding kids in the Ozarks.
I’m also sick of all this annual, false piety crap. Those who are shits all year round but put their game face on for midnight mass where the smell of scotch rivals the incense. Showing up on Christmas and Easter make them good Christians, at least on paper, as well as their check.
So what if he beats his wife, has three mistresses and a gay house boy he calls his holistic adviser. That 1000 bucks after all will come in handy. God makes exceptions for deep pockets remember.
You know who I feel bad for? The Pope who, as front man, has to clean up all the clerical messes his holy little elves have left. My heart sinks in this area since most of the Catholics I know refuse to talk about it, as if it’s merely a rumor. I think allowing priests to marry might help, but who asked me?
I wrote to my friend Hal in Connecticut who’s one of the happiest, well adjusted souls I know, who’s probably going to a movie and then out for Chinese food. It’s one of the reasons I want to be Jewish.
To Dim Sum and then sum.
So don’t forget to deck those fucking halls, even if you go broke doing it.
Santa’s little vixen.
I share your tinsel-trimmed cynicism. Surely, there has to be something positive to say?. Maybe Trump’s antics make it seem Nixon wasn’t so bad after all?
Happy Christmas! 😉
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To you too. 🙂
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Susannah, before Pookie and I had children (7 years) we didn’t decorate and only had a tiny real tree that we later planted each year. I’d be doing the same thing now if we didn’t have grandchildren.
Once we had children we didn’t want them to get jaded. We ‘adopted’ a small family in need and brought them gifts and groceries a week before Christmas. We also obtained info on anywhere from 12-20 elderly shut-ins. The number climbed each year. I made a multi course turkey dinner and accumulated small gifts during the year, like slippers, socks, gloves, etc. We then had the kids wear Santa hats as we spent pretty much the entire day before Christmas delivering our stuff over a two county area. They still talk about some of the elderly they came to know. I also think it was an eye-opener for them to see how others live and struggle.
Pookie and I have said that we need to start doing this again. We stopped when our four children were 9-13 years and we moved. I completely agree that too often the true meaning of Christmas is lost.
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I’m glad you’re not offended by my, as Mick coined it, cynicism. I love that you adopted a family in need and you stash gifts all year round. I just left a stocking for the man next door who’s all alone. That’s my idea of Christmas. Awareness of others. Happy Christmas Skinny.
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I love you! I get jaded with the begging at Christmas. Whatever do these folks do the rest of the year! I will from now on check the shoes! My soft-hearted mom used to give a bag of food to a beggar that came around. She found out that he had a family and a nicer house than she did. That ended that! From then on she stuck with the Salvation Army for her donations! Dim sum for sure!
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That’s so funny…he had a a house nicer than she did. First belly laugh of the day.
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I guess begging is a profitable profession. My mom was really pissed at the time and you know I don’t use that word lightly. It not only took advantage of her (and we were not well off) but also took her innocence away.
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I totally get that. You do feel a little disillusioned, at least at first, then you try to understand the piracy of it in gentle terms, but that doesn’t work for long. Not when you see them telling the next bighearted schmuck the same sob story. That’s when that cynicism takes root. sigh
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Santa’s Little Vixen,
Christmas has become like cable TV. There are plenty of options to choose from, and most of them rhyme with Cha-Ching. And yes, it’s nice to give. But for me anyway, it’s more satisfying to give when it’s not a Yule time stipend.
And you are preaching to my choir when it comes to the seventh day adventurers who think all things holy work on bail money. Do whatever the fuck you feel like doing for six days a week, and every day not named Christmas . . . and then show up to the big guy’s house and yeah . . deep pocket your way out of trouble.
That was my whole point to “No Virginia”. Because the temporal isn’t supposed to intrude upon this magical time of the year. I mean, I realize those rules went out with the Sears and Roebuck catalog, but shit!
I totally relate to your point of view. As per.
Merry . . . ya know
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You crack me up. We could have dueling columns with Pinkerton Guards stationed outside, since we’d be targets for the left? The Right? The Ins…the Outs? I dunno. You can tell I’m reading Augusten Burroughs since he’s released my inner child that was in a gingham/madrass haze chained to her croquet mallet. I’ve decided I won’t write to please anymore. This was a preview. I say I don’t, but I’m fulla shit. I want you to like me, the way Sally Fields did after she spewed all her needs at the podium. Enough of that. If I lose my readers, all 5 of them, so be it. Grrrr
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I have no sacred cows when I decide to go to the mattresses. Everyone is fair game. Although I do tend to rail on about the right a tad bit more, admittedly. Can’t help it, they make it easy.
My old blog was fun in that my partner on it was a right wing NRA dude. Over time, I actually softened the edges of his hard scrabble BS and had him lambasting both sides as well. He never did understand my crush on Maureen Dowd, but hey . . different strokes.
Pinkerton Guards, that is some cool shit right there! And we would need cool hats for the enterprise, because the cool hat says something.
Your inner child sounds like a blast. Let her walk the grounds from time to time, for shits and giggles.
And bring it sister! Unleash! If this was a preview, yo quiero mas! In the immortal words of that ’90’s philosopher, Kurt Cobain . . . come as you are.
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I love Maureen Dowd who was somewhat of a protege of one my heroes, the late Mary McGrory. Yeah, I too have a soft spot for the Pinkertons who smuggled Lincoln into DC in what looked like a dress. Didn’t do much for his manly image but, he got to the White House unscathed. So much history leads to more.
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Love that.
And hey, Lincoln was ahead of his time in more ways than the one. Being in touch with his less than many side is points.
So much history leads to more . . you said it all.
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Poor Abe. He got such shit over so many things. He needed a good PR firm behind him.
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Yes, but he was genius in his ability to hit them back softly. When looking for the guy who taught Vito Corleone a thing or two about keeping your friends close, but your enemies closer? Look no further than Abe.
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Ah…Team of Rivals.
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Nice get SB.
Doris Kearns Goodwin is good stuff.
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I’m a fan. Did you read the new one? She writes about 4 pres she feels were great: Abe, Teddy, FDR and LBJ. Yeah I know, how did he sneak in there. Well ya know, he more than holds his own.
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I have not. LBJ huh? I’m intrigued, to say the least.
Hey, Merry Christmas to you SB.
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And to you too. Deck those halls. 😊
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Fa to the La La!
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On LBJ…DKG worked for him way back when so she still has an obvious yen for him. It’s like Peggy Noonan lauding Reagan. They remember the good. As versed as I think I am, I knew little of what she wrote about him. He was way into Civil Rights before carrying the torch after Kennedy. All we know is how he kept the bathroom door open. The book is spare compared to their predecessors. It’s worth the buy. Your friendly librarian
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Friendly Librarian,
Yeah it’s funny, no matter all the many accomplishments of LBJ- not the least of which was following Camelot- the bathroom thing prevails.
And I wonder, if there are future historians within the current administration who will one day change their political affiliations whilst preserving their regard for Boss Taj.
Naaahhhhh!
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I’ll be dead by then.
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We will all be dead by then.
Trump will still be kicking, of course. And Keith Richards and the cockroaches . . . and J Lo’s ass, which will be cryogenically preserved for historical purposes. And that Survivor reality show . . and McDonald’s french fries and . . .
Okay, I’ll stop.
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You made me remember that old Chris Rock joke…J-Lo, when she goes out has two limos. One for her and one for her ass. Can’t imagine what life must be like with a chassis like hers. Sigh
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Buahaha!
Oh come now. The idea that you arrive for a lunch date at noon while your ass is running twenty minutes (pun alert!) behind doesn’t really appeal, does it?
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She looks like someone made her in shop. I wish she’d teach a course at the Learning Annex on how to inflate your ego in 8 lessons. I’d be first in line.
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It’s too much, her look. There is no genuine sex appeal about the woman. I do understand that my tribe (dudes) are THAT simple, but personally? No. And I am half Cubano, so there’s that, LOL.
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Latino women have a frequency all their own. I see them on the train. Everything is in 3-D. Lips the size of futons painted with what looks like Benjamin Moore semi-gloss. Hair for 5. I’m so neat and compact braying the less is more rule, so I find it all fascinating.
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You have ’em pegged. As a partial Latino, I do not find these gals to my liking. I’m all for high octane, but not on a twenty eight hours a day schedule.
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Love…high octane. Yesterday in the ladies room at Barnes and Noble, a J-Lo wannabe was fanning her eyes. After closer inspection I saw she had just applied eyelashes the size of fly swatters. It was scary.
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Buahahaha!
And the thing is, there is zero embellishment to that description. They really ARE the size of fly swatters!
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I’m in awe of egos that huge. The strut and swagger. She had an ass the size of a trampoline but loved herself anyway. Sigh. Maybe I’ll get me some fly swattas’ 🙂
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The ego is like a runaway train if not harnessed. Some of those ladies are definitely working without a harness.
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Side saddle. The images that just came up. Oy
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Whoa! SB . . . settle yourself girl! 🙂
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I know. I was drinking all this sparkling cider that still obviously had a kick…:)
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Beware the bubbly tickles . . .
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Don’t I know.
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Well, Merry Christmas to you and whatever cactus you sat on! Lol. Nothing says Christmas posts have to be all happy and stuff. I love good ol’ honesty and you, My Dear, have that in spades.
Thank you for pointing out what most people try really hard to overlook. I don’t know about Catholics, the Priest-marriages would have to be illegal due to age and all from what I hear. I am reading a great book, “The Book of Joy”, about my beloved Dali Lama and Desmond Tutu meeting for a week to discuss how to be joyful in this awful mess. I see the holiday as special, but since I am no longer a “Christian” per se, I don’t go on about forgiveness,salvation, and so forth. But I still love the holiday, because a few people show it in their lives and I try to notice.
Love you, Dear,
Scott
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Spending Christmas with Dali and Desmond. Well that’s the spirit. Catholic priests are the only sect who can’t marry, hence all this secret canoodling with minors. I had a friend, an older priest I truly loved who died, but one day he said, you know, we’re just men. People forget that. See, I get it. And all this biblical perfection, as we can see, is deadly. So, ho ho ho to you sir, and be merry.
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