It's the most wonderful time of the year, fuckface!

I love Christmas. Really, I do. Ask anyone, they'll tell ya. Ask elves, even. They know the score. I love Christmas. You get some pretty interesting responses when you state so forcefully in a crowded public space in June, but the fact that I know that just goes to prove my point. I love Christmas. I place absolutely no religious significance on the holiday, and now that I'm an adult who pretty much buys his own toys throughout the year it's not really about what I get anymore, either. I'm all for the "good will toward men" bit though. I even ignore the antiquated phrasing and extend my good will toward women, domesticated animals, and even that oft-hated demi-class of person: the anonymous driver. Yes, even when I'm trying to park at a WalMart in December I feel an elevated level of good cheer coursing through my body (and hopefully not emerging in any embarassing fashion).

I finished my holiday shopping (at least all the shopping I have to do before the 25th) last weekend with a trip to the big city of Burlington and the shopping communities attended thereto. I'm very happy to say that I did most of this year's shopping online and only had to endure one brick and mortar excursion during the rush season kicked off by Black Friday. I'm also happy to report that I remained in good cheer throughout. Even when I had to circle a parking lot 5 times to find a space. Even when I had to go to three separate stores to look for one item. Even though it's apparently impossible to buy a copy of "A Christmas Story" on DVD in central Vermont during this time of year. (This just off the Associated Press wire: Sales of Christmas-themed movies skyrocket unexpectedly during the month of December. Merchants caught totally off guard. More details after this important message from Sprunt feminine products.) Yes, I'm proud to say I remained in good cheer throughout the whole long slow experience.

BUT...

Just because I remained in good cheer doesn't mean I didn't roll my eyes upward and silently exclaim, "You fucking idiot," a few times. I did, and I'll tell you why. The shopping experience was much milder than I expected. This close to Christmas I fully expected to see some small-arms fire and at least one grown adult reduced to tears. I didn't. I didn't even see two mothers fighting over the last available Wendie Whoopsie doll, the hot new toy that spits up when shaken vigorously. (Okay, I made that up. Use of this post as a shopping guide may compromise your sanity.) However, in each store I went to I wound up hearing the same brain-dead complaint from at least five of my fellow shoppers: "There's so many people!" This is what I didn't say to anyone who made that complaint:

You fucking idiot. We're two weeks and one day away from Christmas, and you're standing in a huge store in the largest shopping area in the state of Vermont. Are you aware that other people celebrate Christmas too, not just your family? Do you think you're the only person in the world trying to buy an Xbox 360 and a Hillary Duff CD in mid-December? Are you that original? Do you find yourself distracted by a vague echoing sound when you're all alone? Do you know who the President of the United States is, and are you by chance related to him by blood? I'm going to move this flashlight back and forth, and I want you to follow it with your eyes.

Just had to get that off my chest. Have a very merry Christmas, everyone! Just don't forget to fortify yourself for the mall-zombie apocalypse. Like Kevin McCarthy warned, "You're next!!"

"Santa's elves know your kids haven't been good this year. Fuck your kids, and fuck you too! This movie has been rated G."
--Crotchduster, "Crotchopus"