Every Battle Is Won Before It's Fought

Jon and I like to have fun with this blog, and although our readership is minuscule, we do this for your benefit. So after my holiday post I feel it important to make this post. It's 1:15 on Christmas night... or more like 1:15 in the morning on Boxing Day. I didn't go to church today, but I spent the whole day with my family and sending Christmas pleasantries with my friends via texts and calls. I take this opportunity to say, Merry Christmas to you. CHRISTMAS. Not happy holidays. Whether you are Christian, or not you have to understand that the reason that you have a tree in your house, and that your received presents from loved ones today is because that Jesus Christ was born today. Or at least we've chosen this day to celebrate His birth. Love Him or not, believe in Him or not, without Him there's no Santa Claus, there's no egg nog, there's no nothing without Him, or the people who still have the balls to say they believe in and love Him. I say this for the simple fact that when I see a Jewish friend around this time of year I make it a point to say Happy Hanukkah. Because, after all it is Hanukkah time and I respect faith. If I see a Wiccan, after I stifle my vomit, I say Happy Solstice. Because I respect faith. When I see someone around Christmas, I as a Christian, am inclined to say Merry Christmas, just as the Wiccan is inclined to say Happy Solstice, or as a Jew is inclined to say Happy Hanukkah because it is something they believe in. Do I hold belief against someone if it is different from mine? No. I hear alot of keep Christ in Christmas talk. That's fine. He belongs in Christmas. The fact of the matter is that Christmas has taken on a mythic position in the minds of all. We're all a little nicer, and maybe we give the Salvation Army Santa a fiver instead of the dollar we give to the war vets who then hand you a cray paper flower. I say it is time to respect what the meaning of Christmas truly is. A time where we all realize that we are human beings with flaws, shortcomings and not all of us drive luxury cars. A time where I realize that alot of people don't have a beautiful Christmas tree next to them as I do, people who don't own a computer to blog on, great friends who would crawl for hell through them as I have, and a family that stands as a standard against time who's love is truly divine as I believe I have. Those people who don't... they need Christmas. We like it, they need it. Don't take Jesus out of Christmas. If we do, we eventually lose all of what Christmas means, as it is and is always, a very slippery slope. So I say to you as a Roman Catholic, Merry Christmas and glory to the world, as we have been given not only a Savior, but a time of year where we care a little bit more. If that isn't a product of the divine... well I really don't want to think about that.

Merry Christmas from Jon and John. Try to keep it through the year... you might surprise yourself.

Happy Holidays from the Lovely Bastards

Merry Christmas from Jon and myself. Probably won't be blogging between now and ol' Xmas so let me take this time to say... Enjoy your fucking egg nog and your over-cooked turkey. I hope your tree doesn't catch fire in the middle of the night on Xmas Eve and burn your house down. I truly wish that you aren't arrested for drunk driving on Xmas morn and raped by trogaladitic mongoloid inmates on Three Kings Day. Have a wonderful Kwaanza and any other bullshit, made up holidays that you feel important enough to celebrate. I know that this year I am truly looking forward to Crum Day, the day on which you profess your love for your family by eating cheesesteaks and drinking copious amounts of whiskey. May your Chanukkahdhsahjklfsd be filled with the glory of cheap oil heating, as it is this miracle which kept the Jewish people in affordable housing with utility costs at a bare minimum. All you lovely Wiccans out there... well... just die, please, seriously you're pathetic. Go read your "Cathy" comic strips and drink Chai Lattes until your gout finally claims your right foot and you have to hobble around like a chunky disabled witch. I'd sooner believe in the power of Dumbledor than the power of chanting nonsense words in a basement of some spinsters house while Enya endlessly drones on in the background.

Let me end this by paraphrasing the immortal words of The Night Before Christmas...

To My Dear Children, Love... Dad.
"Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
and I was upstairs backdooring your mother, and pulling her hair.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I pulled out of ol' mom to see whats the matter?
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
my boner regally poking up against the glass.
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
but some fat fucker in a red suit chugging a beer.
The moon on the crest of the new fallen snow,
made me realize that tomorrow I'd have to shovel and that just blows.
More rapid than horses his coursers they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
On Slippy on Drippy on Gassy and Faggy,
on Dermot on Mongo and move your ass Mackey Sasser,
to the top of the house to the top of the wall, now dash away dash away
do it you fuckers!
His deer didn't look healthy and neither did he,
his clothes were all sooty and he was covered in piss. (Thought I'd say, 'pee' didn't ya?)
Snot was running all down his 'stache and his pants were worn away
at the seat of his ass,
His bag of toys was a joke as it was all filled with trash,
and he referred to Mrs. Claus as, "his old, whiney gash"
Santa said I, what the fuck bro?
He looked at me and told me where to go.
He turned and he farted and pull out his hog,
he pissed on my tree and shit on my dog.
He threw some crap into the stockings,
coughed violently for a minute and vomited from hocking.
Santa, do you need some help? I exclaimed
"I don't need your help clown, now get back upstairs,
finish banging that broad but go easy on the hair."
The next morn we woke up to find the presents all there,
but so was Santa as he had passed away on the stairs.
The tox report said that he'd been on ludes and blow,
and the cold air didn't help nor did the snow.
But I'll never forget the last thing he said as turned with a wink,
"Merry Christmas you jagoff, go puke in the sink."

The End

Happy Holidays!!!