There's Everything Ugly About Christmas

Apocalyptic Christmas Special

We're, once again, live.
Christmas is a special time of year, when people everywhere take the time to cherish loved ones, enjoy a prayer for world peace, and get trounced by 60 foot waves for Jesus.
But, we'll get to the waves later. I'd have you all pray for the dead and dying, but I'm sure that was done on Christmas mass and certainly did no good.
So, for the record – there is no God.
Accept it.
Well, there is no God that's answering prayers. Why should he? If we're all supposed to go to heaven, why the hell would he care if we die?
But, that's blasphemy and I'm trying my damndest to be a good soldier of fortunate in the Christian army.
But, what of myself? How were my holidays portrayed on the public access cruelty that is my life?
Well, for the most part – swell.
Christmas eve found me at my father's trying my best not to drink more than four drinks so that I could drive 45 minutes home.
I was presented with bedding for Christmas from my father and stepmother. The rash of paranoid calls about whether he would get me this gift paid off.
"Dad, this is Matt, I'm burning my bed sheets and comforter, so if you don't get me bedding I'll freeze to death for no good reason at all."
Christmas day I went over to my mother's for good times had by all. Many presents were exchanged and my sister tried to make donuts. It was explosive to say the least.
That night I received phone calls from every drunk I know apologizing for some ugly thing they did to me in the past.
Christmas brings out the drunk in everyone and I was liquored enough to bestow upon everyone a hearty "Piss off."
Sunday was ugly and I'm still hung over.
My ex from ten years ago (what the hell am I doing subjecting myself to an ex from ten years ago) was in town and we went out.
On a Sunday.
On a worknight.
The evening found us at Peso's meeting a couple of her friends and getting trashed on Champagne and beer.
We talked about old times, about how things were ten years ago, about how some are thinner and others fatter.
Retracing your past is a lot like having the spins – you keep muttering to yourself "make it stop."
Sometime around this time a huge earthquake rumbled beneath a distant ocean and brought forth a tsunami that is killing thousands and leaving a large portion of the world an open sore for ugly diseases and misery the likes we haven't seen since Oasis put out an album.
After Pesos, we went to see my ex's other ex-boyfriend play at the Central. It took all the grain and hops in my system to decide that this was a good idea.
At the bar I got drunker and decided I knew how to break dance and produced the loudest collective sigh of revulsion in history.
I have no recollection as to what was said in this bar, but I came out of it with a free promo CD from the band.So, I have that.
Oh, and I kept threatening to "totally buy (people) hotdog(s)."
At around this time I developed some sort of crush on a friend of my ex's.
This led to highschoolesque questions about how I should approach her. Now, let me just let you know what every woman will tell a man about approaching women – "just be cool."
Man, that's genius. Cuz, my whole idea about women is that they really dig a guy who acts totally uncool.
But, my coolness paid off when I was able to score a make out session while stranded in front of a closed bar with the woman at 2 in the morning.
Later, the ex would show up with her ex and we would try our best to get as lost as we could searching for a phantom Safeway in the Queen Anne area.
Everyone would wind up at my place and a fly on the wall would perceive a drunken orgy. But, oh no. Whereas I may have been sandwiched between two hot blondes, I received no action other than a couple of random spoon positions that offered nothing in the way of sex.
What a jip.
However, I believe my ex's best friend may have scored on my blow up bed in an attempt to make me clean sheets all day yesterday.
There's nothing uglier than finding a stranger's protein all over your linen.
And to think! One of those comforters was hand made by my step grandmother!
FORSHAME, M!
Jesus lord, all I ask when people spend the night is that they not drizzle any jizz on my sheets that is not my own.
Is that too much to ask?
Probably, but I'm greedy.
And greed kills! Just ask God. Thousands of the poorest people in the world are dead now because they had the nerve to ask God to not obliterate them with his sea hand in exchange for living religiously and sleeping in a shack the size of a tapeworm's central nervous system.
But, we can't blame God. No, we are all of him and will return. So, why the long faces?
Well, it's just that this kind of thing always happens to those that are less fortunate.
I wonder if they'll be the same widespread mourning that took place after 911? Or, is the fact that God did it, and not some crazys, going to relieve our pain? Or, the fact that the only industry destroyed was tourism? Will a German destroyer fly the flag of Thailand in memorial?
Doubt it.
Cuz, after all, it's not like they were a Western state.
Then again, with outsourcing, there's a good chance that the American workforce will be reduced by thousands in India....
Oh well.
So, I find myself still hung over and wondering if I should call that girl. She gave me her number, but she was drunk. Yes, a lot has happened since that night: she's probably moved on, as it were. The Earth has been transformed and maybe the liquor in her veins has been processed into vinegar and now her brain is working coherently. That would spell doom for any plans I might have of taking her out.
Drunk women are disposable – once the drunk wears off, they no longer work for my ends.
Oh well. There's always the memories of cigarette and boozed soaked smooching in an doorway that smelled of piss.
Christmas is a special time in that way.
So, for now, I'll try to cure my hangover with cold medication and cross my fingers.
An earthquake is a means to mass destruction and there's a good chance we'll be attacking a fault in South Eastern Asia. The troops are massing in Sumatra and an shock and awe campaign of submarines is going under to flush out any aftershocks that threaten the stability of our overseas American corporations.
War is big business and the guilty will be brought to justice.
And now I give you the President of the United States:
"God's tyranny on this Earth has come to a head. Make no mistake – God will be brought to justice for this horrible crime against humanity. Mark my words, God will pay.
Some of you may ask 'Why would God do this?' And I have an answer. God hates our freedom. God hates us for what makes us great – our democracy. When God sent that tsunami over there, to that...nations...those nations, he sent a message to our American corporate investments. He said 'I hate your freedom.' Well, there's too ways to flush out a rabbit. And one of them is....wait...no, there's three ways to ride a donkey into the water...no, that's not it.....look, my message to God is that we will avenge the death of...those people who died over there. You know, there's a poster that they used to hang up in the old west. It said 'Wanted: Dead or Alive.' Well, mark my words, we will hunt down and find God, dead or alive. Just like the Bonjovi song. So, to those people in those nations over there, God bless. We will find God dead or alive and we will find justice. Of course, let me add, this is not the Jesus God, this is that other God, the God of...the one with the scepter and those beady eyes and...I think there's a Led Zeppelin song about him...it's something like...damn...I forget...but, here's the point – we will not tolerate waves the size of the Chrysler building on our shores or on anyone's shores, mark my words – my words will be marked. God bless America and those other countries."

- Leonard
2004