Well, the calendar shows today is December 25th. I’ve heard no reports from the front, but I guess that means Bill O’Reilly’s forces have prevailed in Fox News Outrage Channel’s annual “War on Christmas” despite the best efforts of myself and my fellow insurgents.
This year my cell was assigned the vital and dangerous task of infiltrating several area Wal-Marts and saying “happy holidays” to unsuspecting patrons. We struck a mighty blow, but alas, the world goes on pretending jeebus was born during the pagan winter solstice celebration. Maybe next year.
This year’s Giftsmas season found me a little more flush than usual. My grandmother passed away and a small sum of money unexpectedly made it’s way into my hands.
Now where I come from, money that falls into one’s lap out of nowhere is called ”found money” and tradition holds that it must be spent. Not saved or invested. Spent. Preferably in such a way as to have nothing to show for it after the fact but a wicked hangover, a few shiny baubles and a suspicious rash.
So it was somewhat in defiance of tradition that I took half of the money and had some engine work done on my scoot, purportedly increasing the horsepower by 25-30%. I say purportedly because, as I write this, Pearl is not running well. She sits forlornly in my garage awaiting a warm enough and dry enough day for a return trip to the shop.
Obviously I couldn’t take a chance on any more bad juju with the remainder of maw-maw’s money. I had to stay true to my Arkansas white-trash roots. I had to get more frivolous… so I bought a big-ass teevee.
My plan is now to monitor the Tiger Woods scandal very closely. At least until Brittany gets caught without underwear again or my motorcycle starts running right.