Dispatch from the War on Christmas

23 December 2013
0900 hours

Reconnaissance mission: Walmart.

Encountered Salvation Army bellringer deployed at entrance. Decided on preemptive strike.  “Doesn’t that damned bell drive you crazy, ringing it all day?”

Enemy combatant returned fire.  “Not really, God bless you, sir!”

The unexpected precision of the counterattack left me reeling, as I searched my pocket for a contribution.  I was able to limit the damage to $5.  Dazed and confused, trying to execute a strategic withdrawal, I mumbled something about Saturnalia, but the enemy pressed his advantage.

“Thank you, and have a very Merry Christmas!”

Wounded as I was, I was still able to return fire with “Happy Holidays to you, too,” but a subsequent attempt, “Creation science isn’t,” apparently misfired, as the enemy appeared unmoved.

Still, I was able to make my way to the relative safety of greed and cynical commercialism once I reached the interior of the Walmart.

Result: Marginally satisfactory.  Enemy remained at his post, but I was able to withdraw without substantial casualty.

Mission for 24 December 2013:  Enroll in atheistic socialist Obamacare on Christmas Eve itself.

Mikels Skele, Sp. General, Ret., Dec.

Hark, the Harold!

The season being what it is, all thoughts turn to balls of holly, and the Wee Three Kings of Orion Tar.  And who could forget Guy d’Stew, thy perfect knight?  Let there be peas on earth.  Remember, tri-star Xavier was bored on Christmas day.

I’m dreaming of a wide Christmas, Gloria’s dreams, from havin’ a dove.  So let the belle’s own bobtails ring.  We’ll sing a slaying song tonight, while riding in a one whore soapen sleigh.  In the meadow, you can build a snowman, and pretend that he is parson brown.  Or any other color, for that matter.  In the immortal words of the beloved Carol:

Frosty the snowman
Had a very shiny nose
And everywhere that Frosty went
The lamb was sure to go!

There must have been some cabbage in that old top hat you found.

Christmas, they say, should be year-round.  In that spirit, when Autumn leaves, leave your cart in San Francisco and wake up in the city that never sweeps.  Let April impair us, in the summertime, when the lemon is easy.  In the moss cow nights, though London Bridget’s falling down, you can rock the cash bar.

Gloria, in egg shells, sees mayo!  We are one nation, invisible, with libertine justice for all.  So, as you embark on your journey through the glorious and ever-changing world, remember this:

Skip Tumaluma, darling.

Marks Rd 2

Later on, Wilkins’ fire!

Photo credit: http://www.strongsville.org