The Christmas Word of Sprout
The holidays are a fine time to reflect upon what we have and what we have been given, but so is any other time, and any other time we'd receive more credit for it, so let's not do that now.
I am most concerned with how to squeeze sensual pleasure out of this season, for the eyes, but also for the nose, teeth, and lips (the ears have been done in by 93.9 FM's infatuation with Alvin and the Chipmunks). If I'm lucky enough, I'll find myself under a mistletoe, hung in the crotch of a peaked doorway painted creamy white, tense and close to a girl with pink, wet lipstick and a golden ham in her arms and a head full of eggnog or Jagermeister and...goddammit, I got grease and cloves all over my Dockers...are those cloves or giant petrified sperm? Here, taste this. Well, one thing's for sure: Come September I'll have either a baby or cold-cuts.
Nowadays, there always seems to be a "suckling pig" intent on disparaging the holiday season. Perhaps because of the family gatherings where Aunt Denise hits on her nieces, or perhaps because he receives a McDonald's gift card (again) from his retarded brother, or perhaps because he has neither luxury. For me, the holiday season is one of irrational optimism, magic in the multicolored lights, even more so in the white ones, which contain all the colors in the prism, mostly on drug charges. It is a season of the essential decency of mankind, to take a brief respite from the awful things we do to each other.
Of course, the season makes the rich richer and the poor poorer, but also warms cynical winter personalities. It is a season of gratefulness, of strangers helping strangers, and of Stranger Danger helping children to red and green M&M's in his windowless van.
Merry Christmas everyone! I love you.
I am most concerned with how to squeeze sensual pleasure out of this season, for the eyes, but also for the nose, teeth, and lips (the ears have been done in by 93.9 FM's infatuation with Alvin and the Chipmunks). If I'm lucky enough, I'll find myself under a mistletoe, hung in the crotch of a peaked doorway painted creamy white, tense and close to a girl with pink, wet lipstick and a golden ham in her arms and a head full of eggnog or Jagermeister and...goddammit, I got grease and cloves all over my Dockers...are those cloves or giant petrified sperm? Here, taste this. Well, one thing's for sure: Come September I'll have either a baby or cold-cuts.
Nowadays, there always seems to be a "suckling pig" intent on disparaging the holiday season. Perhaps because of the family gatherings where Aunt Denise hits on her nieces, or perhaps because he receives a McDonald's gift card (again) from his retarded brother, or perhaps because he has neither luxury. For me, the holiday season is one of irrational optimism, magic in the multicolored lights, even more so in the white ones, which contain all the colors in the prism, mostly on drug charges. It is a season of the essential decency of mankind, to take a brief respite from the awful things we do to each other.
Of course, the season makes the rich richer and the poor poorer, but also warms cynical winter personalities. It is a season of gratefulness, of strangers helping strangers, and of Stranger Danger helping children to red and green M&M's in his windowless van.
Merry Christmas everyone! I love you.
posted by JMH | 8:58 PM
1 Comments:
And everyone gets the charity-virus around Christmas, giving suddenly money to the homeless next to the underground station, donates a few quids to children in need. Fortunately the virus remains contagious only until boxing day.
Frohe Weihnachten!
Post a Comment
<< Home