The last week of November, I am always really excited about Christmas. The holiday specials start airing on TV, and everyone still seems sane and logical. Then Black Friday happens, and it just kicks everyone into insanity mode. I mean everyone. Even people who do not partake in that madness. It is like some mass pandemonium strikes and just inflicts everyone like some sort of zombie plague that doesn’t end up going away until after the new year. So in essence, last week of November? Really excited about Christmas. First week of December? Remembers how the holiday turns everyone into a psycho, and hates it again. I’m not alone in this, right?
A quick disclaimer: I know not all Moms are awesome. I know some people were raised by drunk Moms or angry Moms,(or tan Moms) and in some cases, even abusive Moms, and none of the shout-outs here are aimed at any of them. They suck. But also, they are the minority when it comes to Moms. Most Moms are stellar creatures, driven by an instinct so strong, we men and non-parents cannot even fathom how it functions. But anytime we fell as a child, they were there, gingerly taking the sand out of our knee wound, all whilst kissing it better. And on the nights when we couldn’t sleep, they would come into our rooms and sing us songs, and even in extreme examples, let us crawl into bed with them, so we could siphon some of their sweet dreams. Is there anything in this world that loves more selflessly than a Mom? And truth be told, every voice in my life, at one point or another, told me to give up on writing, and pursue more “realistic” means, which I did for many years, yet my Mom always told me to keep writing. Told me I had a voice I needed to share. My Mom was the reason I carried a notebook at all times, and even wrote during my breaks from my shitty jobs. She nurtured a very important side of me while everyone else was trying to curb stomp it. My creative side. The side that pays my bills (barely) and puts (dollar store) food in my mouth, but still, I am living my dream because she NEVER stopped telling me I could, and when it finally happened, my Mom was the only person not even remotely surprised by it all. So join with me while I take a moment to thank all the good Moms of the world, for loving us so selflessly, and in the process, helping to teach us to love even the most wistful sides of ourselves, that most others tried to push away.
I am not a fan of Easter. Do not let the fact that I have an awesome bunny throw you off. Also, do not let the fact that I AM an awesome bunny throw you off. The very idea of Easter is what? To celebrate the return of our messiah by giving loads of candy and presents to kids? We also hide eggs. You know, things that MAKE NO FUCKING SENSE? And I know some of you are religious, and that’s fine, but let’s address the aspect about this day we are all thinking about. This was the day Jesus came back as a zombie. Granted, no one talks about that, and that’s fine, but if your aunt Hilda, who died three days ago, knocked on your door right now, your first impression wouldn’t be messiah. It would be “shit, aunt Hilda came back for our brains, so grab the shotgun.” Good thing the zombie legend was not well-known when Jesus rose from the grave looking to feast on human flesh, because that would have just worked everyone into a panic. Truth is, they called him a messiah before they realized he was a flesh-eating cadaver who had come back from the dead. So what next? Well, they killed him again. And this time he stayed dead. So what did they give us in his place to distract us.
You think you know what goes on around Christmas. You think you understand the Santa mythos, and the core ideas of the reindeer games, but honestly, you people have no idea. Everything you have been taught about Santa and his Reindeer wrong. Lies perpetuated by pop culture, Christopher Columbus style. You actually think the eight famous reindeer that pull Santa’s sleigh are the exact same eight reindeer you were singing about when you were a child? Who, in turn, are supposed to be the same exact eight reindeer that were pulling Santa’s Sleigh when your Parent’s were singing those same songs, long before you were even born? You actually think that? Oh, it is not that simple. And this tale is sordid, so I recommend pulling up a tree trunk and lending an antler for the next few minutes. You are going to want to hear all of this. It won’t be easy to hear, but it is necessary so we can buck the these trends, pun intended.
As you lounge about today, and laugh about your sweet freedoms while you drink your seltzer tasting light beer and eat your overly processed grilled meats, remember:
No matter what you do.
No matter where you are.
No matter how you are dressed.
No matter who you are with.
No matter what you are drinking.
No matter what you are thinking.
The hypnotoad is watching and waiting,
He will make sure you forgot you saw any of this. That is just what hypnotoad does.
When you forget you saw this, you will think it is because of the booze you consumed, like the sheep you are.
But your cheap booze had nothing to do with it.
it was all