Merry Christmas to you. An unwed mother gave birth upon haybales within a cow stable. Smoke THAT in your fiscal report.
Here's my wish list, in case you wanna gimme gifts:
- I want a pie tin from Bryan's Bakery, so I can pretend that it's a plastic disk designed for skimming through the air.
- I want a parking lot.
- I want a fleet of diesel-powered trucks.
That's all. I'm pretty much happy with what I have. My only desire is to be able to share my love with the world. The plan that I drew up to accomplish this goal reads as follows:
I'll fill a parking lot with delivery trucks; then I'll use these vehicles to distribute feelings of fondness to everyone everywhere.
So, if the bank approves my loan, then we'll be in business; if not, then not. It's no big deal if this idea fails: I can always go sulk about being rejected. Even THAT might be fun. You could come visit me at the dock where I am accustomed to spearfishing, and we could hang out together. Imagine us returning to the marketplace holding a vast net of catfish. We could use the proceeds to purchase trinkets and knick-knacks.
*
It still shocks me that there are earthlings who actually want to start up another war. I assume that most of us naturally desire peace; so, to make us want to fight, we must be lied into war: propagandized.
For years now, I've been living in a small house in a quiet town in the middle of this continent, minding my own business, loving my neighbors. Then a messenger from the transnational cartel that gaslights my country appears hastening over the horizon, leaving a trail of footprints in the newly fallen snow. When he gets within earshot, he announces:
"Breaking news, O rural citizen: A country in the Pacific Ocean has assaulted an archipelago in the Pacific Ocean!"
I gasp and say: "Time to bang my ploughshare into a sword. Just point the direction and I'll dash into battle."
The man gestures vaguely to the Far East and sez: "Thank you for leaving your family here to struggle while you commit bloodshed in a strange land."
(Note that if, instead of the cartel messenger, armed bandits had come charging over the hillside, it would not appear so ridiculous to fight against them. I'm trying to make the point that modern warfare has been divorced from all notion of "protecting one's family"; so one's opponent is far from obvious. One is urged to abandon regular existence and give one's life to fight unknown folks in faraway lands: by pushing this course, the cartel messenger himself might be considered a greater threat to one's hearth and home than one's so-called enemies — that is, those "enemies" he's trying to sell you.)
I'm puzzled when I consider the spans of time that are associated with various events. For instance, World War 2 went from 1939 to 1945: that's about six years. For all the hype about this war, I woulda thought it'd lasted six CENTURIES. I myself don't remember anything at all about my own first six years — back then, I was barely yet a warrior. If my life had ended before my seventh year, I don't think I would've even been worth naming. So that's sad about WW2 expiring in its childhood. And then I consider the Great Depression — that's another pivotal event that I always hear referenced: that bad time lasted just a handful of years: The online search engine that I just consulted returned the dates "1929 to 1933". So, just after the Great Depression reached its conclusion in the USA, there was about one WW2-length span of time until WW2 officially started. And now I'm wondering about the FIRST World War: so I ask and find out (for whatever reason, the dates returned by my research assistant in this case are very specific) that it went from July 28, 1914 to November 11, 1918. Roughly another four years. So we have the FIRST BIG WAR that devastates everyone; then a decade later the Great Depression begins to devastate everyone again; and, finally, six years after that major devastation, the NEXT BIG WAR arises to torment humanity. Thankfully, no more Wars or Depressions have occurred since then.
Now I'm angry at myself for spending so many words on such low thoughts this morning. Who cares about war: even if it's the most important topic in the world. I'd rather be caught singing nonsense when I'm hit by a stray bullet from my own side.
It's all a wash, if you ask me. Country X defeats the Nazis only to begin eventually acting like the Nazis.
. . . But maybe I'm wrong — so it's best to ignore me. My unforgivable sin is that I cannot feel the attraction of violence and warfare.
For similar reasons, I'm inept at sports. For instance, I care for everything EXCEPT who wins, when the Dolphins play the Cowboys — I like both teams equally: Dolphins are intelligent creatures who live within the sea; plus Cowboys ride horses and...
I can't remember the other things that Cowboys do, but I swear on my life that I support them. Don't they also brand cattle? That is admirable: Who doesn't like a name branded on their hide! Tattoos and body piercings are all the rage, nowadays.
Yes, with regard to U.S. football, I only care about the Green Bay Packers; for I was born in Wisconsin (Green Bay is a city in the U.S. state of Wisconsin), so that's my home team. Also I care about the Minnesota Vikings, because I currently live in the U.S. state of Minnesota; so that's my home team too. Therefore, the BEST game is when the Packers play the Vikings: that's a win-win for me. I write both teams fan letters.
*
But the issue at hand is that Christmastime is here. We didn't expect it; we thought we had eliminated the possibility of a resurgence of seasonal holidays, when we accomplished our War Against Merriment. First we fought the War on Terror, and we destroyed the possibility of fear itself: we wiped its smirk right off the face of the Earth. Then we said to ourselves, "Well, that was easy. Why not try abolishing Christmas next?" So we packed up all our nuke bombs into our backpacks and trekked over the universe, seeking out all the Christs that were being born in mangers on various planets throughout spacetime. That was a satisfying adventure: we should commemorate it by erecting a statue somewhere. Or multiple statues in a tableau commemorating the elimination of impoverishment: "Aborted Nativity Scenes."
Then Frosty the Snowman appeared, with two eyes made out of coal, a button nose, and his signature corncob pipe. Rudolph the reindeer was standing proudly at his side with his snout aglow. They spoke as one, and delivered the following prophecy:
"Those who are wise know that night will fall after each day begins. While everyone else is staring into the sun and thereby going blind, true prophets lower their gaze earthward to focus on the dirt and complain about the fact that sundown is coming."
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