‘Christmasness’ is just a silly word I made up for this post title.
I have successfully made it through another Thanksgiving and will now wade through
the infinite complexity of Christmas with all its meaningless verve and endless commercial fluff.
For me, this is a season that has lost all meaning.
Period.
A-freekin’-men.
I have automatically tuned out the Carpenter’s ‘Merry Christmas, Darling’ and Nat King Cole’s ‘Christmas Song’,
not because I don’t like chestnuts on an open fire but because these days the sentiment means very little to me these days in terms of spirit.
I’m not the first person to say that this holiday has gone commercial but it has
and I have a tough time participating.
That’s just me.
My fountain pens are loaded with some amazing inks and I will just write my way though the holidays.
It will not only calm me down but may take some of the Grinch out of me by the 24th.
Look for a post on Christmas Day.
Until then,
I wish all of you peace and multiple moments of crystal blue silence amidst
the [unnecessary and] perpetual seasonal noise.

Pax,

~m

ps. wanted to tag this post, “Dear Santa, I’ve been a very bad boy this year. 5 tons of coal should do,”
but it seemed a bit long . . .

It is Monday folkers and another chance for some mayhem and hijinx.
If you’re new here, Malarkey Monday is a time to smile and laugh at
all the crazy things crap we find on the internet.
Be sure to visit my wonderful partners in crime where there’s always something good to laugh about.
Trust me.
This week I turn my attention to the upcoming Christmas holiday.
God help us, everyone.

Nothing quite like a holiday rant from a squirrel sucking on helium . . .

Santa is a wanted man. But I’m thinking you already knew that.
Damn political correctness was bound to catch up.
He’s a damn villain these days . . .

Nothing like a little holiday present gone dreadfully wrong
to bring a smile to your face . . .

Now go and visit my fellow Monday jokers!
HAPPY MONDAY FOLKS!

Moe
Morky
Gem
Grimm

The tree is up and dressed with soft, white lights, ornaments and icicles.
The cats are already stripping them off and methodically leaving them on the floor where my unsuspecting feet find them at 3:02am.
The other morning I found a ceramic reindeer the sole of my left foot was violently impaled
with the antlers of an unsympathetic and ceramic reindeer.
*%&^$&(#)@!!!!
Bastards.
Yeah, it’s Christmastime.
Although I’ve yet to hear much in the way of holiday music,
I’ve no doubt that within two weeks time I’ll be deep in the complicated state of Yuletide Dismay
wanting to slit my wrists at the mere sound of the introduction to ‘Carol of the Bells’.
It is at this festive time of the year that I unleash my innermost Mister Nasty, the stygian beast within, the curmudgeon of melancholy, my dark saint.
Part of me still harbours (more like imprisons) that little boy that used to love the snow
and the Christmas lights and yes, even the ’Carol of the Bells’.
These days Mister Nasty can’t come out and play.
Actually, I don’t want to come outside.
I play the dark saint of sorts and find my own personal way to somehow make it to December 26th
(Sarah’s birthday for those of you who will find out anyway on her Twitter).
I think that some of my snowy disdain is rooted in the overabundance of past holiday social fatalities.
Dealing with Alzheimer’s Disease ironically (and sadly) made me forget my ‘Santa’ mentality replacing it with this almost diabolical Grinch-like quality – an issue currently Under Construction.
Humor me for the next month or so as I deal with the bleak canvas of winter as my thoughts turn deeply inwards.
This holiday season has quite a different feel to it though and I think I know why.
Unfortunately, I can’t tell you the reason.
So indulge me, won’t you?
And who knows?
Maybe this Grinch will once and for all find his Christmas heart . . .