How I Wish It Would Fake Snow

So I survived another holiday retail horrorshow. Actually not so bad, really. Probably not a good thing, in the long run. But I imagine most places were suffering about as bad as we were at some point. People just aren't buying things like they were in previous years. Gas prices? War fatigue? Maybe it's the start of a new, less materialistic spyglass glimpse into our Christmas Future, where all the little Who's down in Whoville hold hands around the Christmas tree and sing fah-who-for-aze and eat roast beast and say fuck you Planet Music, I negate your Josh Groban and all he represents, and we would then be sooooo *~happy~*, all of us, every one. Well, here's to next year for all that to happen, yeah. In the meantime Mike is coming over for video games and I think I'm going to take a stroll around the neighborhood and look at Christmas lights for a spell. Walk off some of the brownies and candy and ham biscuits that everybody brought in at work today. Before the glut puts me to bed at an embarrassingly early hour.



Another one of my all-time favorite Christmas songs, "Fairytale Of New York" by The Pogues, featuring the late Kirsty MacColl, is also one of my all-time favorite romantic ballads for its realistically dark and vertiginous tale of tempestuous punk rock love. Thought these days the song makes me think of S. and how much we both adored this song, and I'm sure it brings even more intensely heartbreaking memories to her as it does to me. Okay, now I'm getting all verklemmt. See you on the other side, fellow revelers! I love you. Yes, I mean you.