The year 2018 sure felt different from all previous years, yet ultimately, it was the same.
2018 was a big and busy year. So many things happened, between natural disasters, tumultuous politics, acts of terrorism, celebrity mumbo jumbo, sports phenomena, and feel-good stories, as well as those stories that made us sick with disgust, making us wonder, what the hell? Seriously, what the hell?
The unicorn was the three-dollar bill of the animal kingdom, followed closely by the exaggerating inchworm.
In the true spirit of Christmas, Mr. Derby exclaimed, “And a Merry Christmas to you!” accompanied with an extended middle finger. You would too if you were soaked to the bone by a car purposely driving close to curbs in order to splash unsuspecting pedestrians with slush. Depending on which side you’re on, it’s either hilarious or painfully tragic. In Mr. Derby’s case, it was the latter. In retrospect, it was the perfect ending to the worst day of his life.
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.
The sound of a switchblade and a motorbike.
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