It’s Monday and I haven’t had my coffee.
Christmas Day behind us, New Years’ before us, crazies in full force.
One should stockpile all necessities by Dec 15 and only venture out when needed.
Drivers ignore speed limits, traffic signals, and signage.
Pedestrians refuse to look any direction.
Malls and Grocers descend into chaos.
I want to go home as soon as I reach the main road.
Home has its own problems.
Turn on the radio or TV, and a song, show, or movie will be proclaimed
an instant classic
a new tradition
That’s not how this works, people.
That’s not how any of this works.
I’d get you a dictionary for Christmas, but
(a) they’re expensive and
(b) I doubt you’d read it anyway.
And then there’s the family photographer, stealing a slice of our souls with every synthesized click of the button and telling us
Being natural, I make no apologies for
not sitting up
not looking at the camera
not looking pleasant
not not blinking
If you wanted something else, you’re looking at the wrong person. But for you, I’ll do those things, knowing that the person in the photos is a pseudo-me, an impostor no better than Shopping Mall Santa.
Now I have a machine gun
ho ho ho
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