All I want for Christmas is a job
Angels we have heard are high
Away in a cheap motel
Blue (balls) Christmas
Oh cum all ye faithful
Rudolph the red nosed reindeer (was booked for public intoxication)
Silent Night (was broken with the sounds of gun fire)
What child is this? (ah don't you know the father? tramp!)
While shepherds watched their flocks (the boyz in the hood were boosting your stereo)
Holly Jolly Christmas (is when you mix ecstasy with your egg nog)
Ah Christmas that most unique time of year when people buy crap they wouldn't think twice about buying the rest of the year. I'm sure uncle Harry doesn't need an electric nose hair tweezers even though his nostrils could compete with the Smith Bros. beards. And for the life of me I see no point of a Chia pet. In a couple of months it'll sit on a window sill all brown and ugly collecting dust.
We reach a saturation point of materialism in which the only needs left are to replace some worn out underwear or a frayed winter coat. But the madness continues until extra storage comes into play. That's when you know there's a real problem. When you have so much junk that the closet won't take one more trinket it's time to seek help. Why did you save that hat from Jr. high? Thought it might be a cute item to give to the grand kids only you aren't going to be around to see them cause the kids moved back home.
My contention is that we could outfit an entire country and never miss a thing. I have for the most part furnished my place with the leftovers of people's forgotten lives. And good stuff too. Demolition work had its' perks. But at some point it all becomes a burden, a psychosis of the collection of things. My problem is that by the time I get finished with something like a piece of clothing it wouldn't even make a good dust rag. And no I'm not about to run all over town seeking out a fiber recycler. Too much effort there.
So let's all go wassailing and pervert a few more ditties before the cock crows. Even that sounds naughty. Hey baby want to wassail?
So let's all go wassailing and pervert a few more ditties before the cock crows. Even that sounds naughty. Hey baby want to wassail?
4 comments:
Not me, I don't want no job.
I want twenty acres in the country but I don't want to go to work to pay for it for the next fifteen years.
What the hell, I have beer and a good seat and more clothes than I'll wear out before I kick the bucket.
That's my problem Billy I was just headed to the finish line when they moved the tape. Now it's too old to hire too young to retire. And there's a lot like me in the same position. Now you know why I hate rethuglicons?
They've extended the Kyoto Protocol until 2020. It sure is nice to have beer and a good seat for the end of the show.
Too tired to work and too poor to quit. Ain't no justice in this life and likely none on the other side of it either.
The older I get, the less plastic happiness I find I need or even want.
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