As must be obvious to everyone, I have had no time to write lately. Not sure why that’s the case, other than spending most of my free time shopping, wrapping, mailing, flailing, etc., like hundreds of millions of other capitalists in this country this time of year. Oh well, at least I'm not alone in jumping out the plane without a parachute, free-falling toward Splatsville and Target Bankruptcy. Or, as is more the case with me, Macy's Bankruptcy.
Only the best that the Midstate can sell, darlings, only the best.
Still, one or two of my readers—or perhaps I should say, my one or two readers—have started to comment and complain. Surely I can be relied upon for some holiday hijinx and seasonal sarcasm, no? I'm so good at it (or rather, consistent at it) every other time of year.
Mea culpa, possums.
So expect something more filling and sustaining than this appetizer, at least before New Year's. I have some bits and bobs that I’m trying to stuff into a gay goose of a posting on the joys of secular humanism for the holidays, as well as some baked-into-a-casserole leftover commentary on Canada vs. North Carolina.
(The latter isn't a hockey night round-up, I promise. Go 'Canes.)
But, honestly, after you’ve seen pictures of Britney Spears’ hoo-ha spread all over the internet, there really isn’t much left to say or do.
Other than swilling another cup of some Everclear-laced eggnog and maligning another Christmas carol--say, for example, "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus, Some Strange Men at a Party, Paris Hilton, Paris's Teacup Chihuahua, and the Living Wisemen and Sheep in a Nativity Scene at the Church Down the Road"--into something lewd and lascivious.
And, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I don't even have time for *that.*
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