Making yuletides gay since 1985

Listening to As Long as There's Christmas, courtesy of my cable company's music channels. My mom turns on Sounds of the Season as we menfolk put up X-mas lights, those sparkling reminders of the glowing holy babe. In the grand tradition of The Prayer and Up Where We Belong, this is a really vomitous duet. But thanks to Comcast© and Sound of the Season, I can enjoy these and other horrible covers of navidad music all day/night/December long. What a joyous cacophony of classic songs! Now on White Christmas with Perry Como and his Choir. Boy, this takes me back.

Another beautiful Thanksgiving come and gone. I'll tell ya, I ate quite a bit. Enough that I sighed with relief when, after the meal, I made it to the bathroom. Not for the crapping, but for the loosening of my 28" pants. Next Thanksgiving, I'm going elastic.

Now on to Karen Carpenter's Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. My dad hears the music from his perch atop the house.

"Is this that dead girl?" Ol' softie, he.

This year's meal was spent down in Murrieta (north of San Diego) with my cousin Yvonne and her family. She has two adorable little kids, Daniel, 7, and Julia, 6. They had recently received an early gift from St. Nick: a tiny bichon frisé puppy named Henri.

Me: Daniel, what kind of dog is Henri?
Daniel: A French dog.

*Later*

Me: Julia, what kind of dog is Henri?
Julia: A Jonbenet.

Now listening to Olivia Newton John and her rendition of Hark the Herald Angels Sing.
Christ is the word!

So I definitely enjoyed the free alcohol this holiday. Finally having access to wine and champagne, I had about four times as much drink as food. No matter. Those family members over 6 days old generally followed my lead, so I blended right in. I had some strange concoction called Apples to Oranges, which included:

2 parts applesauce
1 part Grand Marnier
1 part Cognac
1 part Champagne

This was disgusting, foul, stomach-turning. So I was told. By the time I began to drink it, my tastebuds were out of commission and I was laughing at King of Queens. By the time I finished it, I was unfit to drive a tricycle.

The turkey, other than having some strange tumor/bump/abcess/alien baby between the breasts, was beautiful and tasted delicious. My favorite hors d'oeuvres, black olives, were laid out and I happily took to putting them on my fingers and sucking them off with a vigor reminiscent of my childhood days. Even though I later rubbed my eye, and even though it stung visciously from the olive brine, and even though I had to excuse myself to wash out my eyeball and then come back out looking like I'd smoked out on half of my face, I had a great night. I hope you all had the same.

So Day 1 of Christmas Light Application is complete. The neighbors won't need sunscreen until we're completely finished tomorrow. We did find some snags in putting up the first 80 lbs. of stands, however.

"Wow, Dad, you did a great job on the roof!"
"Thanks. It's so great when the family can get together and do satisfying work like this. I'm very pleased."
"Oh, look, those two on the highest and least-accesible part of the house went out."
"FUCK!"

"CJ, the first story looks great."
"Thanks. It's tough going through the rain gutters, behind the bushes, and tip-toeing precariously on the windowsill, but the looks on your faces are worth it, family."
"Wait, CJ, you put that one strand over the bay window on backwards. The plugs wont fit."
"MOTHERFUCKINGBITCHASSWHORE"

Here's hoping everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving. I sure did. I'll probably post before the December holidays, but if I don't, then have a fantastic time with your:

A. Overbearing mother (Chanukkah)
B. Overzealous uncle (Kwanzaa)
C. Oversexed family (Catholic Christmas)

Now hearing Run-D.M.C's Christmas in Hollis. Where is that olive brine?

I give a cigarette to the baby

Listening to Beethoven's Missa Solemnis. Two reasons: 1) It's incredible. 2) For my Beet class, I'm writing a paper on his vocal music. And you don't get more vocal than a choir. ZING! oh, yeah, I am so back!

In regards to the huge pausa... I'm sorry to have kept my my legions of loyal fans waiting. Well, the one person. Kate has the temerity and spunk to be a legion. She expressed same in this way:

"Goddamnit Carl, update!"

There's trouble in paradise. Kate doesn't address my needs. I'm not content. I can only have me-time in the bathroom. She censors verbal expression, so I write this escapist plea. Remember that I write while pooing:

The leaves fall softly
From the tree, gay girlfriend. I
Wait for winter. Splash.

Should I hang on, as
The stubborn malcontent poo
Does so often? Plop.


No, Kate knows I love her... and you have to give me credit for being so understanding. I mean, she poos way more than me. And her emissions don't exactly tickle my olfactory receptors and cause them to do a merry dance.

It's difficult not to feel like a martyr, when you suffer those handicapped by chronic pooing.


SPEAKING of feces, we failed to clean the septic tank in Washington, guys. Not only did we not call the Kerry Honeywagon, but we let the shit leak all over the yard of Capitol Hill.

Not to go on for too long, because I'm sure you've seen it on blog after woebegone blog, but one point of utter confusion.

Overall, morality was the key to Americans' presidential decisions. A greater factor than the economy and terror. Maybe I'm missing the point--we should concentrate on our neighbors' business, I suppose. Why shouldn't practicality take a back seat to moral values? Besides, being a Mrs. Kravitz can be a lot of fun.

In response to our country's unashamed admission to the utmost importance of moral values, I propose this:

A complete de-pruding of the American public. We'll shock them all until we enjoy a European level of acceptance. It's fun and easy, here are just a few ideas!

• FUCK IN THE STREETS! At a certain time each day, we can all just go for it. Of course, we'll put those inclined to similar genitalia in the front of the orgy parade. Coast-to-coast nudity and copulation. From La Cienega to 5th Avenue, the streets'll be paved with, well, what the Sperm Banks consider liquid gold. Do it with a friend or use it as an opportunity to make new ones!
• GET DRUNK WITH YOUR PARENTS DAY! Bring Daddy's temper to show-and-tell! Impress your friends when you, as a 10 year old, win the local sake bomb contest. Let's show the Russians they can't do anything better than us, those commie fools!
• MULTICULTURAL HOMES (AND HOMOS) IN EVERY NEIGHBORHOOD! Two mommies, one black, one white, an asian girl, a latino boy. Scare the wits out of your conservative relatives as little José plays the violin and cute-as-a-bug's-ear Ling runs from the INS!
• ISLAM DAY! Self-explanatory!
• LEGALIZE MARIJUANA, GAMBLING, AND PROSTITUTION! Celebrate your newly legal friends, those clandestine individuals who until now had to hide in the shadows. Flaunt your love of this country by getting high and having anonymous sex in casinos all across the union! This amazing legislation would deal hypocrisy a deadly blow! Write your Congressperson today!
• EQUIP AND TRAIN WILD GAME TO FIGHT BACK! Doe, a deer, a female ass-kicker. Do you smell what the endangered species are cookin? The conservatives want availability of guns, there's no reason why ducks and geese can't have assault rifles! It's definitely hunting season, my friends... this Thanksgiving, help a game animal to serve his family some roast "athlete."

Other options included BEFRIEND A EUROPEAN! and PAY WOMEN THE SAME AMOUNT!, but then it stopped being crazy and just turned cynical, and that's just no fun.

If we work hard, I see no reason why we can't have everyone appreciate humanity just a little bit more. And I sure wouldn't mind a price-cap on whores!

Music: More Beethoven. Sonata 15 in D. I know, I know, I should broaden my musical horizons or I'll be no better than those I deride. There. I just switched to Edith Piaf. I'll be accepting my award for Pathetic Cultural Wannabe later.