Before GPS, there was the North Star.
It was Christmas Eve and Dad came home drunk as if it were yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that. Long story short, Dad was one of them functioning alcoholics. None of this mattered to me. I was eight years old and I needed to know one thing: What is the meaning of Christmas.
In two days, Jesus Christ would have been 2,018 years old. If he were still alive, I wonder how he would explain Krampus, Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer, Frosty The Snowman, Hardrock, Coco and Joe, and the overall decline of human civilization. My guess is he would be miffed. In other words, Jesus is coming, hide the bong.
And now, a Christmas mash up.
He sees you when you’re sleeping, but who sees him? Huh? Think about that before you sleep tonight.
Santa Claus woke up in a cold sweat from disturbing dreams in where he was visited by the spirits of Christmas past, present and future. Each vision warned him of the perils of continuing his path of gratuitous benevolence. At first, he thought it may have been the dessicant, a hygroscopic substance used as a drying agent, he accidentally swallowed while eating packaged seaweed.
The Christmas power tie in 2018 is as impotent as hope for peace in U.S. government.
At work, he was often called the guy with mustard stains on his tie, when he much preferred being called by his real name, the one he was born with, Peter Tomasevich. The sad truth is well documented, Peter loved mustard, perhaps more that any person had a right to.
The sound of a switchblade and a motorbike.
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