Christmas is ...

Christmas is carrying your Dad to his walker behind the door so he can make his own way out to the tree as though nothing is (completely) wrong.

Do the vest buttons line up? Yep. Santa hat? Yes. Bolo? Check. Like the bolo, by the way. Nice half shaving job, old man, shit. Whatever. Ok, roll old man, roll!


Be thankful for what you have people. Be thankful. It doesn't last forever.


What is Christmas for you?




Sorry to be a downer! It's all good. I'm hanging with the best family a person could hope for (meaning dysfunctional as all hell), and in the jacuzzi at that.

The roiling water assuages and the wine abides. Things could be worse. Things could also be better, but then, couldn't they always be? No complaints, no complaints. But I'll be sad if I want to. Paradise death is just as permanent.



The only clear bit of wisdom I've gleaned from this experience is: all the money in the world means jack fucking squat. You wanna know the key to life?

The key to life is people. Surround yourself with good people, and you will live (and die) well. People. Friends and family. That's it. It sounds so simple, doesn't it? It is.



Well Merry effin Christmas, right? I may be the only cynic-optimist, wherein I'm convinced the world will get better, but for the wrong reasons.


I wish the best for you all! This is my own effed up way of sending you love, so enjoy it, dipshits.