The Lonely Devastation of Christmas

I'm going to (sob) be alone this Christmas and (boo hoo) the tragedy is so emotionally devastating (oh God), I don't know if I can make it so ... really ... there's only one question: what's a good pick for a porno movie?

There's the Little Drummer Boy from the Nutcracker over in a corner and we could watch porno together but doing that with some guy, particularly one who is one hundred percent wood already, isn't really exciting my Christmas spirit or anything else that much.

Our loneliness this season is exacerbated all the more because social networks are no good due to all the people bitching about the other people who are bitching about the movie people who talk about Star Wars too much.

Instead, we blew a bowl of the prime grade and watched pod racers.  Fark!

There's one thing we can't help but love about Christmas:  the slacking.  You can sit around doing absolutely nothing and no-one thinks it's unusual.  It's kind of bugging me somewhat since recording another go 'round with the Dry Run is a Highly Desirable Thing so slacking isn't all that commendable.  It doesn't stop me from slacking, tho, but I'm ashamed about it ... really.

The porno doesn't cut it either.  Woody Allen said he really gets off on the first fifteen minutes of a porno movie but watching it all the way through makes him think he never wants to have sex ever again.

There's really thankfulness for the health, tho.  There was a week of complete misery which has largely evaporated in time for Christmas ... well ... and porno.

(Ed:  the doctor said you tested positive for a malignant cancer yesterday.  Are you that stoned or just stupid?)

Don't you worry about that buzz, matey mate.  

The doctor did say that yesterday but he also said he thinks he got it all and it has not spread.  Your skin has multiple levels of protective goodness and he said it did not seem to have penetrated an important layer underneath the skin layer we see.  That's the Maginot Line inside the skin but, unlike the real Maginot Line, it actually works and it's extremely difficult for hostile things such as insects, evangelists, or malignant cancer to get through it.

Yah, I'm thankful for that.  Previously it was hugely scary since I did not know but now it is only a pain in the ass.

The game plan is now to get a frozen meatloaf TV dinner and have that while watching those little fookin' Ewoks in Star Wars.  Perhaps after that recording.

Frozen meatloaf is not suffering, it's poetry.  That meatloaf isn't entirely without taste and it's not like I'm eating a shoebox, not like when I was with the Foreign Legion ...

(Ed:  what happened?)

We of the Foreign Legion were on our way to rescue a vineyard from invaders who would destroy it in the name of religion for an American missionary, Jerry Falwell, when we were cut off behind enemy lines.  My comrade Legionnaires and I had nothing to eat for days and days until finally some started eating some empty shoeboxes.  They didn't make it, tho.  We (sob) lost them.

(Ed:  to what?)

Termites.