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Blogging on Christmas eve. Who does this? Why do this? Does it really matter? Your mind is blank and the streets are filled with rubble and as the morning coffee begins to crust in the slow parts throughout your veins, the fingers hit the keyboard and before you know it, damn.... you're blogging on Christmas eve.

I suppose there are a lot worse things that one could be doing. Blogging is healthy enough though. It's not hurting anybody. That is unless you say something that people find offensive, then it chars their fragile minds for a day or so or at least until they find something far more pointless to bunch their granny panties up and bitch about.

I just love coffee. Have I ever told you that? Okay, yeah. Probably about a 147 and a half times. What constitutes a half of a time you ask? Okay, maybe you don't ask but if I keep telling myself that somebody is asking it then I shall be rocking jungle balls of that got my stocking fully stuffed and I'm heading over to the tree to push motherfuckers out of the way and scarf up some free shit feeling. By the way, a half of a time is when I gurgled my sentiment with a mouthful of Italian roast. You might not have understood me. But I said it. Not my problem what comes or doesn't come after that.

What is Christmas? Is it a bunch of people who really don't know a thing about each other on a personal level of any kind but feel an intense sensation to give each other some free shit? Free, yes. You yourself didn't pay for what it is that you now hold in your grubby little hands. Maybe there is reasoning here. Like the fact that you never once thought in your life when you did have a pocket full of money that you actually wanted to buy one of these..... gifts. Ah, gifts. To give freely. Taketh of my shitty offering and act enthused despite the fact that you have been drinking eggnog with 151 all morning and when you ripped the box open, your eyes drooped like an old ladies tit and your mouth did that thing..... you know, that "what the fuck is this shit?" curve you do really well with your lips.

Christmas is not about giving. If you are unemployed it's not about getting either. After all, people with jobs get the day off and what do you get? Another day to sit around and think about how much free time you have and marvel at all that rubble in the street.

Christmas is not even about family anymore if most of your family is dead and the ones that are alive might as well be dead because the ones who died long ago are still more fun from six feet under.

Is Christmas about realizing that another year will be ending the following week and a new one will begin and you will try to be impressed because you have come such a long way since when you would shit yourself and people would think that it's cute?

Christmas is one of the most vague holidays on the calendar because if you sat five people down in a room and asked them what Christmas meant to them each of these self absorbed pricks would say something completely different. This is truth beyond truth. Not in a Valentines day means I celebrate my truest love that completes my being or maybe if I just give the bitch some flowers she'll blow me kind of way. Truth more like a does it really fucking matter what Christmas means to anybody anymore because as the years have rolled on and the wrinkles have widened nothing much really seems to mean anything anymore.

We breathe. We eat. We shit. We get on the internet and tell all 827 of the people that we don't even know anymore or never even knew in the first place on fuckbook that today we are going to scratch our ass like it's nobodies business and then when Uncle Sal is asleep in the chair from all the excitement of farting too much we are going to light his eyebrows on fire and get a circle pit going while chanting "we don't need no water let the motherfucker burn!"

Are we really living anymore? Does anything really matter? Holidays? Any days at all actually? Half off sales at stores that we don't even shop at in the first place. Standing around in lines to see movies that are going to suck anyway. Wondering if Christmas were to fall on a Tuesday or a Thursday would we just get the whole weekend stretch off?

People yell and scream at each other over why we are celebrating Christmas now. It's about family. It's about giving. It's about Jesus. Maybe family is subjective to those who don't live in a cardboard box or only buy an answering machine because it came with a free coffee maker and not because anybody is actually going to call them. Giving can also be a sketchy concept when you consider things like gonorrhea and head lice are somewhere on the list of gifts to be given.

So.... Jesus then. It must be about Jesus for some folks still, right? Unless that happened overnight I am going to have to touch myself in a special place and chuckle inward.

When did Christmas ever become about Jesus? Do people actually sit around the tree and pass boxes in a semi-circle and say "I'm so lucky that Jesus loves me today"? Yay. Yeah, right.

When I was a kid I didn't know who Jesus was. Christmas was about presents. Not having a job of course made it more so about getting than giving and also beings that I was/am an only child that was perfectly alright with me. But Christmas was not just about presents. It was about Santa Claus. Some guy who grabs kids asses all day long at the mall and eats a whole lot of cookies and is unusually jolly for some fat fuck who only comes once a year.

Santa Claus used to be the face of Christmas. Not Jesus. Santa Claus is somewhat of a wake up call for children though because once we reach a certain age we are told that it was all a lie and don't we feel foolish? Somehow things don't quite seem the same after that though. I know I never truthfully recovered from learning that Santa Claus was not real. Between that and my favorite aunt and best friend as a child dying when I was very young I would say that my life was off to a smashing start. Being a fat kid in a skinny kid school didn't seem to help any either.

I'm not complaining though. As much as it sounds like I am, I simply am not and you'll just have to trust me on this one. Trust someone over the internet I hear you say? Yes. Please do. Thank you kindly.

Even when I was told that Santa Claus was fake and the presents all of a sudden were labeled with love from Mom and Dad instead of "your pal Santa" I was never really turned on to Jesus. I tried to read the bible once. Tried. Once. Just couldn't do it. But I tried, which is more than you can probably say for most kids or people in general.

I remember when I first saw a picture of Jesus. It was in someones bathroom. My first thought was who the fuck is this dirty hippie and why is he hanging on the wall in the can? Kind of dampened his relevance for me as I grew older. I remember hearing all that stuff people say. Jesus loves you. Jesus loves me. Hallelujah. I brake for Jesus. Wait a minute..... the guy hanging in the bathroom? What the fuck is up with that shit?

I remember some Jesus freak telling me that Christmas was his birthday or some shit. That got me thinking. Ohhh, I get it now.... it's like that Santa Claus thing. First you tell me that some fat guy in a suit is going to just give me free shit if I don't set anything on fire and brush my teeth after every meal and learn my abc's, and as soon as I find out that it was all a GREAT BIG LIE you want me to put all of my faith in some hippie whose face hangs over a place where people excrete milky way bars and tootsie rolls.

I never really clung to religion. I never paid any attention to it what so ever actually. I certainly feel that everybody is entitled to their own shit. Whatever gets them through the day with their nipples erect and keeps them from going into a mall and punching one of those mimes. I just never really understood why so many people are so fanatical about all of this stuff. Religion. Politics. Sports. Who cares what theory or deity you subscribe to or what lever you pulled or what jersey you wear on Sunday? It's all opinions and nothing more. Beliefs they are called. But let's call a spade a spade.... a belief is really a more sophisticated word for nothing else than an opinion.

I just have always loathed pushy people. In my eyes someone who force feeds Jesus down the throat of anybody is no better or worse than a drug pusher. Not a dealer mind you. A pusher. Dealers make house calls whereas pushers will call your house asking if "You lookin'?" I have largely functioned off of a strict regime of don't call me I'll call you and that works all sides of the habitual round up for me. Just sayin.

But back to the Christmas thing..... nobody even calls it Christmas anymore. People are afraid to say Merry Christmas out of fear of offending someone with opposing religious beliefs.... opinions, rather. I mean, I don't have a picture of Jesus hanging in my bathroom but if somebody were to wish me a Merry Christmas I would be on the grateful side and most definately wish them likewise. It's a greeting. A pleasantry if you will. Like telling someone to have a nice day.

If somebody said "have a nice day" would you be offended over their choice of wording? Would your demented and tiny mind suddenly become unhinged because they wish for your day to merely be "nice" when they should have told you to have a "super-fuck-tastically orgasmic-a-liscious" day? Yeah, maybe if you were a complete prick you would sure.

Having to worry about how somebody is going to take me offering up a simplest of greetings is not in my bag of tricks though. If I tell you to have a Merry Christmas and you are Jewish and fly off the handle because I didn't say Happy Hunkashit then guess what? My "Merry Christmas" just magically transformed into " go fuck yourself." Pretty simple really. But everybody has got to be different. Cutting edge. Cult. Cooler than the other guy. Eh, go fuck a cheerio with your baby dick logic.

Christmas is just another day on the calendar to me. Don't get me wrong, I am happier than I have ever been and I love my friends and family a whole lot more this year because there is more of my heart open wider to do so. Whatever gets you through the day. Whatever you wish to teach the children that dropped from your own snatch. It's all good.

My old boss used to say "it is what it is" all the time. I used to hate that because it just sounded like a cop out. Kind of like the trailer trash version of "whatever." But I have to admit that as I have gotten older I have all but accepted this as my un-official motto of life. It is what it is. Why? Because it just is. What it is, in fact. I don't expect much from anything or anybody anymore. As long as I wake up each morning with morning wood and some hot coffee in my cup I'm good. The rest of the day is what it is. Truest words that have ever been spoken.

I don't subscribe to any religious agenda. I remember once that I read the Satanic bible and I will state that I comprehended it a whole lot more than the other one. I even actually agreed with much of what it had to say. Still, I'm no more a Satanist than I am a Jesus freak. Since I was a small child I have been referred to as a freak in general though. That's cool. I am a freak. I'm a sick fuck. Those who know only this part of me would probably think that I have a picture of Charlie Manson on my own bathroom wall. Kind of ironic actually because  used to be fascinated by that guy. Just like everybody else used to be. Only difference is that I can admit it. But now he is just an old man and someday I will be too and who or what hangs on my bathroom wall and gets me through the day will cease to matter.

I don't know what Christmas is about. I don't really care at this point either. That is not at all meant to be taken in a cynical or serial killer manner of speaking. Christmas is just like anything else. It is what it is. It can be about lighting your farts in front of the tree and starting a brushfire. It can be about drinking until you vomit and then realizing that you are empty now and can start drinking again. It can be about giving everybody gift certificates to the house of cheese because cheese is fantastic. It can be about giving people elaborately wrapped empty boxes and laughing as they rip off the paper knowing well what their reaction will be.... that "what the fuck is this?" thing with their lip. It can be about giving and getting and sharing and caring and not wearing any underwear underneath of a short skirt and bending over to grab all the packages under the tree so you can hand them out to all the smiley faces and erections. It can be about one love or love one another or looking in the mirror and getting titty hard ons. Does it really matter who fucks who and why and when and where and whether you clean up afterwards or whether you leave it for the maid or whatever the fuck?

My Christmas is your Honkana. Your Honkana is Amid's Ramalamadingdong. His Ramalamadingdong is Tyrone's Kwanzimoto. Who gives a fuck? It's a day in all of our lives. Have a nice one. Or don't. In 100 years from now do you think that any of this stuff is gonna matter? Santa Claus is still not gonna be real even though people will tell their children that he is. When these children grow up to be adults who are bitter because their parents lied to them about Santa Claus they can always turn to Jesus..... and he'll be right there waiting.... on their bathroom wall.


*****Original post date 12/25/10*****