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From Our December 2003 Edition


ll,  it’s almost Christmas and you can bet those little McCarty grandbrats will be waking up Christmas morning and looking for lots of presents. Oh, they will be all organized and opening presents one at a time, like it’s a bridal shower or something. Just thinking of those seasonal sissies makes me hotter than the bulb that used to shine on Grandma Schmelzer’s aluminum Christmas tree.

Oh, the first thing those Noel nincompoops will do is empty their stockings. Oh, they will have candy and treats of all kind. Who the heck started this tradition? We didn’t have stockings when I was growing up. The only stockings you might find on Christmas morning would be a pair of Larry McCarty’s socks rolled up in a ball under a chair. And if you found those you’d have wished you didn’t. They smelt so bad they would have turned Santa’s beard black. If Rudolf got a whiff of those stockings he’d a blown a fuse in that schnoz. Why I bet Rudolf smelled better things when he was sniffing other reindeers’ butts. All I’m saying is they smelled bad and we didn’t have ‘em and we were better off for it.

And then those Christmas creeps slowly unwrap all of the presents leaving wrapping paper all on the floor. “Ooooh, let’s spend four hours opening up presents so the whole morning is wasted.” When I was a kid we didn’t have wrapping paper, so you just started playing with everything right away. Christmas morning was over within 15 minutes and then we got on to other things, like breaking our brothers’ presents. My parents were smart enough to not be tricked into buying wrapping paper that would get thrown away anyway. They spent the money on more important things like Silly Putty and “D” batteries, and we loved it! Cause you can never have enough of those.

And don’t hold your breath waiting for those idiotic ingrates to call you to thank you for the card you send with $2 in it. When I was a kid my mom would make us sit on our chair and hand us the phone and make us call to say thank you. We’d sit there with the threat of sitting on that chair for weeks or getting hit with my Mom’s shoe, and so we’d make the phone call. My mom could have taught the North Vietnamese a thing or two about a coerced statement. We’d mumble into the phone receiver “Thank you for the card and the money… yes… yes… here’s my mom.” It took 10 seconds to call but 2 hours to work up to it, but we were better off for it.

So, this year, I’m gonna have an old-fashioned Christmas like we used to. And I’m not sending my card with the $2 this year. No, you are gonna get a special, nicely, wrapped box from Ole Uncle Jer and don’t be surprised if it smells like Reindeer Poop!! And I’ll be waiting for the thank you call.


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