Pumpkin? In my day, we ate beet pie and we appreciated it!
Man, I could really go for a bowl of borscht about now.
I’m sure you could. Just like we could go for the eye-watering flatulence that inevitably follows in its wake.
Yesterday for the holiday I volunteered to feed some starving orphans, rescued some flea-bitten kittens, massaged the feet of some decrepit old ladies, and helped clean up after they fed bad hamburgers to the members of the Lion’s Club.
Oh, well, sure you helped kittens. Let’s not think about the little birds of the world, whose numbers are devastated in their millions, if not BILLIONS, by the uncontrolled spread of domestic cats, who slaughter birds in countless numbers because the bird species aren’t evolved to account for massive numbers of human-protected invasive predatory species. Fuck birds, am I right? They’re just living, feeling creatures, but you don’t mind ensuring they die in agony and terror and their young suffer an unimaginably horrific death of starvation, knowing only pain and fear. Next I suppose you’ll be letting poisonous snakes loose in a daycare, you monster.
Anyway, I’m going to go make an egg salad sandwich.
You heathenous Turkey! How dare you! Here in North America when everybody who is anybody eats Turkey sandwiches today you have the gall and gumption to mention egg salad sandwiches. Now I want one.
Todays cocktail, gin or tequila can’t decide.
Doesn’t matter-you’ll still get rip-roaring drunk and sit there watching old Starsky and Hutch reruns as the drool drips down your chin.
OK, fine. To make up for my previous sins, today I rescued a whole host of lost migratory birds, fed them, gave them water, then at sunset let them all loose to fly away into the gloaming.
Gloaming? Who are you, Dylan Thomas?
I’m putting up my Christmas lights tomorrow.
Oh, come on, an agnostic like you? Couldn’t you find any flashing question marks?
I enjoyed my day under a blanket with my new Dylan book.
Collecting those fat unemployment checks no doubt. Thanks Sponge-bob Dylan.
I woke up at the crack of Dawn.
Keep your sex life to yourself, Hef!
I had pizza for dinner.
And you’ll have garlic breath for bed-no nookie for you tonight!
It would be cool to go to space one day.
Not enough vacuum between your ears?
Mannheim Steamroller does nice Christmas tunes.
Hey, why not just go the full Horst Wessel on us? What’s wrong with a bit of good old American Bing Crosby at this time of year? Hitler hated reindeer as well.
I like budgies.
That’s nice. Beware the ones which play punk rock on your cranium tho.
I love Christmas carols. I play them all day every day from Halloween on!
I live alone, do you? Partner up and left, did they? Couldn’t take all the cheer, huh?
I am writing poetry.
Please spare us your navel-gazing pastiches on how miserable your life is already.
I just made a jolly snowman in my front yard!
And what colour was the snowman, I wonder hey?!?!? You and your white-privileged snow-buddy should take a hike.
I’m looking forward to the Carols in the Park this year.
With your undeveloped vocal chords growling hissing and coughing like a wallaby let’s hope you can lip synch rather than sing along.
Bags are packed we’re ready to GO!
Hope you go to hell you lazy deadbeat.
I bought one of those light up Xmas sweaters yesterday to display my holiday spirit!
Suck it in fool that sweater is popping sequins and busting out at the gut.
And here we are driving by beautiful Gary Indiana.
Ooh, I’ve been thru there. You are holding your breath, too, aren’t you.
I was nice enough to hold my wife’s purse and purchases while she tried on clothes.