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6 reasons i hate christmas

Now that ms. e has so kindly reminded us just how close Christmas is, my thoughts turn to that blessed holiday – and I realize just how much I’m dreading it.

6 – Buying presents. I dislike shopping in the first place. But shopping during the holidays is especially insipid. The look of desperation and confusion and greed on the faces of the multitudes at the mall makes me react one way: I leave. No kidding. I go to the mall, walk around in a daze for a bit, and just when I decide to start at the top of my list, I am filled with panic and go home. It takes me like 7 or 8 trips to actually buy the presents I need to, and as a result and am ALWAYS still shopping on December 24th. Plus I always buy way too expensive shit for people and end of fucking myself for the next month.

5 – Travelling during the holidays. The 6 hour drive to Berkeley is usually fine, but during Christmas there is fog. There is traffic. It gets dark early. Flying is just an hour but Southwest is such a miserable fucking organization that it is never easy.

4 – The commercials. Oy. TV is one thing but the radio commercials drive me especially insane. You know, those smarmy man/woman gift-giving conversations, the "ironic" spots with the angry elf with a Brooklyn accent (always with a Brooklyn accent – apparently an elf who talks like a New York Cab Driver from the 70’s is the fucking funniest thing in the world), or a reindeer with an attitude (and a Brooklyn accent), or people singing badly to a carol with different words about the great sale at K-Mart. Make me nuts.

3 – Christmas music. Arggghh. Most carols inspire in me an immediate fight or flight reflex. Maybe it’s from the above commercials, or just from having been stuck playing my trumpet in the church Christmas band every year until I went away to college. We Wish You A Merry Christmas is the worst. There are a few I can stand, including Oh Holy Night, We Three Kings, Little Town of Bethlehem. And when you think about it, those three all have tonally interesting melodies. Unlike Jingle Bells. Yuck.

2 – "Comedy" Christmas music. This probably belongs up above, but somehow each year I end up listening to Dr. Demento or some shit with all the parody holiday songs. Dr. Demento-type crap really drives me nuts, (except for Weird Al, him I can handle) but this time of year it is far worse. A few of my least favorite are: Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer, What Do You Buy A Wookie For Christmas, and The Chanukah Song (yes, by Adam Sandler). The only one I can even partially tolerate is the 12 Days of Christmas by the MacKenzie Bros.

1 – My father died a few days before Christmas. This was 5 years ago now. But while this no doubt colors my view on the holiday, I truly never liked it. Even then. Even before.


…My sister had an operation yesterday. Her second for the same thing. I haven’t talked to her in a month. She’s been too busy and now this. I only have her and my mom. I miss her. And I’m sure her recovery there in Madison, Wisconsin was only made worse by the fact that our hated Packers killed our beloved Niners last night.


…I decided to write a chart detailing the Al Pacino Hoo-Wah Factor. The HW Factor is a scale, from 1 to 11 that rates Al Pacino’s 1990’s tendency to overact in films. (Note: There are a few smaller films of his I did not see…)


DICK TRACY           10
GODFATHER 3       11
CARLITO’S WAY        6
HEAT                  5
THE INSIDER         1

The Larry King Happy Song Corner

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See me, feel me, heal me. Listening to you I get the music. Gazing at you I get the heat. Following you I climb the mountain. I get excitement at your feet. Right behind you I see the millions. On you I see the glory. From you I get opinions. From you I get the story… speaking of which. Listening to WNYO Oldies 91.7 I get the music. Gazing at my new grey suede size 7 Hush Puppies with the Comfort Insoles I get the heat. Following my chauffeur Bruno I climb into my limo. I get excitement from a good vodka martini with Charlie Rose, Jerry Orbach, and Phil Donahue at 21 during lunch. Right behind Regis that bastard, I see the Millions. On you I see the Harry Winton 8 karat diamond tiara you made me buy you for Chanukah last year. From you I get a goddamn fantastic pre-nup thanks to John Greenblatt of Greenblatt, Fishmatz, and Schlomostein. From you I get my nightly foot rub.

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