Daily Ambivalence - ring out the old

Tonight everyone's going to stay up until twelve to ring out the old year and then ring in the new year. These hopeful people will look to the new year to bring them all the things they wanted to get this year but didn't because Costco ran out of them.

The approaching new year is often represented in the media as a baby and the year ending is represented as an old man with a beard. I guess because babies are good and old men are fairly bad.

I just wonder why we don't spend a little more time considering how the old man did? Maybe he did a pretty good job. I mean, what if the baby is a brat who refuses to live on a budget and leaves the toilet seat up?

With modern medicine these days being old doesn't mean you can only be defined as having one foot in the grave. Old people live into their sixties. Even seventies, I think. I'm just saying it might be wise to take a look at the old man before you throw him out.

I'm just kidding. This year sucked.

Ring out the old . . . eh.

Daily Ambivalence - Captain America's broken shield in the last Avenger's trailer

I've broken lots of things in my life.

When I was a kid I used to break things all the time. Less so now. I've learned to not touch stuff so much. Because, you know, it's the touching that starts it all.

I don't think I've ever broken anything that I didn't touch. Unless you count that time with the boomerang. Or that other time with the kazoo at the museum.

Anyways, I guess you can't fault Captain America for breaking his shield in the last Avenger's trailer. It is, after all, his shield. So of course he can touch it.

And maybe that's not even Captain America's real shield in the movie trailer. Maybe Captain America was fighting the bad guy near a Toys R Us and they blew the place up. You been to a Toys R Us lately? There's Captain America shields everywhere, and they're just made of plastic.

What with product placement in movies these days, I'll bet that's what you actually saw in the trailer. SPOILER ALERT. That probably means Ultron's lair is under a toy store.

Captain America's broken shield in the last Avenger's trailer . . . eh.

Daily Ambivalence - only 364 days until Christmas

Statements like that used to fill me with gloom but as I grow older the days seem to blink by.

I've heard different theories as to why time hastens when you age. For me, I think it's because of all the days I stay in bed with a pillow over my head. Sometimes I don't wake up for weeks on end.

Whatever the reason, I'm getting older and so now when I say to myself that Christmas is 364 days away, I . . .

No, that's still pretty depressing.

Only 354 days until Christmas . . . eh.

Daily Ambivalence - I've got to watch thirty-seven Christmas movies this week

No Christmas would be complete without watching that movie where Cousin Eddie says the sh@%#er's full.

And I love Red Ryder BB Guns. Syrup on spaghetti too. Classic stuff.

And maybe I'm still waiting for the perfect iteration of Christmas Carol to be made, even though there are dozens, but Scrooge taking his heart out of the ice box is a must.

If I don't hear Boris Karloff narrate the Grinch or Bing Crosby croon about snow that is a total fail.

Three stop-animation films featuring Rudolph is an absolute minimum, and Jack Skellington's incursion can't be missed.

But this December has been really busy so far.

I just counted everything up and I've got to watch thirty-seven Christmas movies this week.

This is going to suck.

 I've got to watch thirty-seven Christmas movies this week . . . eh.

Christmas story reading/2014

Merry Christmas.

I hope the holidays are working out for you this year. If you have time in this busy week, here is a reading of a Christmas story I wrote for friends and neighbors a few years ago. Enjoy.

There was that dream about Cousin Eddie

There was that dream where I was wearing Cousin Eddie's dickie at a Christmas party and the two skinny children from the Christmas Carol were hiding underneath the buffet table and I knew I was supposed to be afraid of Want and that I should fear Ignorance even more but I just caught each of them by the ear and made them eat a whole plate of mac 'n cheese  and a few other things and those kids turned out to be kind of nice.

Ignorance went nuts over the creamed corn.

Daily Ambivalence - getting off Santa's naughty list is hard

Getting off Santa's naughty list is hard. I've tried bribing elves, writing letters to the President of the United States, eating candy, changing my identity, even stocking premium reindeer feed and spreading it on the lawn at night. None of it works.

I got a letter back from the President, which was cool, but he wasn't much help. The letter just said:

"Suck it, loser!"

I didn't really thinking eating candy would do anything but I like candy.

Maybe there's nothing you can do to get off Santa's naughty list. Once you're on you're just plain on.

It's a conundrum.

Getting off Santa's naughty list is hard . . . eh.

That dream about the tarantula

There was that dream where I bought my wife a tarantula for Christmas and the salesman seemed to think it was a good idea and in the dream the tarantula wasn't hairy like most tarantulas are but more kind of furry like Snuffleupagus and who doesn't like Sesame Street so I figured, yeah, a tarantula was a great idea but on Christmas morning the tarantula had escaped from its box but I didn't want my wife to be sad so I assured her that her pet tarantula was somewhere in the house and we only had two more years before we paid off the mortgage but my wife made us move anyway.

Daily Ambivalence - that lady at the cash register doesn't seem to have the Christmas spirit

I haven't gotten up to the lady at the cash register yet, still twenty shoppers in front of me, but I have gotta say that she just doesn't seem to have the Christmas spirit. She isn't smiling, and when she moves it doesn't look at all like she could break into a song any moment, or a dance, or and song and a dance.

Now I'm not a judgmental person normally but that lady is bringing me down. What a hum bug. She obviously doesn't care that Santa Claus will be coming just a few short nights from now. She'll probably deserve that lump of coal that's coming. And you know what? I don't even feel sorry for her. What gives her the right to be such a buzzkill?

Oh, good, just nineteen more shoppers in front of me. I'm going to give that lady a piece of my mind. It's December and she needs to be more jolly.

That lady at the cash register doesn't seem to have the Christmas spirit . . . eh.

There was that dream about Christmas day

There was that dream where I woke up and I'd been transported back in time to that Christmas morning when Uncle Bradford went off his meds again and he got confused about what we were celebrating and he jumped out of a cake mom had made and he started singing happy birthday in a low, sultry voice and I couldn't get over how he'd fit in that little cake but who am I to say what you can or can't do when you put your mind to it and mom was upset because the cake was ruined but I told her to have faith that the Grinch's heart would grow and break the x-ray machine but the Grinch never came. Thanks a lot Jim Carrey.

Daily Ambivalence - I'm not going to switch out that bulb on the Christmas tree

C'mon, there's probably 200 lights on that Christmas tree. Maybe more.

My wife wants me to fix one bulb but what does it matter? 1 out of 200.

No, 500 I'll bet. 1 out of 500 lights. Maybe even a 1,000.

This is one of the reasons Christmas bugs me sometimes. You've got all these heightened expectations. Every dinner, every party, every polite exchange, every song, every waking moment of every day assigned an expectation that no normal human could ever realize.

So, yeah, I'm not going to switch out that bulb.

If I change that bulb my wife might actually expect me to attend a dinner or a party or make polite exchanges or sing songs when I'm awake. No way man.

 I'm not going to switch out that bulb on the Christmas tree . . . eh.

Christmas story/last year

Here is my reading of last year's Christmas story. Thought I'd throw it out again. If you missed it last year give it a try.

Tonight I will work on another another Christmas story from the past and probably have that out for you to hear in a couple days. Look for that.

Daily Ambivalence - I saw a documentary on figgy pudding

I saw a documentary on figgy pudding the other night and - call me crazy - the pudding looked disgusting. Didn't even look like pudding.

Kind of ruins that whole Christmas song for me, you know, even makes me question the Victorian era pattern upon which much of our current Christmas tradition is based.

I don't understand what it is about figgy pudding that could inspire a song. Follow me on this - you're a kid living during the Victorian era and you make songs about figgy pudding when you could have had a Snickers bar or maybe some rope licorice. Why not write a song where you say "now bring us some Reese's Pieces, now bring us some Reese's Pieces . . ." That totally scans.

I'd sing along with that version of the song. But figgy pudding? Pass.

 I saw a documentary on figgy pudding . . . eh.

I could have sworn that guy was dead

I just got a Christmas card from Harvey and I could have sworn that guy was dead.

I even stopped sending Harvey Christmas cards a couple years ago. And I took him off my Facebook friends list.

You know what that means?

That video of the cat band playing In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida that I shared yesterday? Harvey didn't get that. Because I thought he was dead. But he's not.

It's a Christmas miracle.

Daily Ambivalence - I heard that Christmas song 20 minutes ago

I've been listening to the same radio station all morning and they played this same song twenty minutes ago.

After a little careful thought this actually fills my heart with gladness, because probably the only logical explanation for this with all the millions of Christmas songs to choose from is parental pride. I'll bet the DJ on the other end of the speakers really loves this song because his kid is the one singing it.

Totally understandable. If I was a DJ and my kid had a Christmas album, I'd play it all the time.

Weird though. That DJ must be really old if Neal Diamond is his kid.

 I heard that Christmas song 20 minutes ago . . . eh.

There was that dream about the midnight train

There was that dream where I took the midnight train to Georgia and I was hoping it would drop me off somewhere along the coast but when the conductor kicked me off I was in Macon, which sounds great because Macon sounds like bacon but I didn't even catch a whiff of cured pork and Macon is in the center of Georgia so there was no ocean except for this guy's yard where he'd set up a small wading pool for his daughter and her friends but when I crashed the party to lay out a little I found that most southerners actually do carry guns and the dad didn't appreciate it when I spoke to him in my best southern accent and I'm lucky that my dog Oakley jumped up on my bed at that moment in the dream and licked my face because I've heard if you die in a dream you die for real.