'tis the season, so they say, to be jolly, falalalala, fala la la. Obviously "they" have never worked in Retail. I have. But I'm retired now. Falalalala fala la la. Now it would be normal (over rated) for me, following my usual course in journaling (journalizing?) to be nasty, gloomy, rude, snide, mean, backbiting, bitter, sarcastic, sneering, insulting, unpleasant, caustic, whinny, petulent, needy, narrow minded, blunt, abrupt, and gererally offensive, all those things that make, for me, life worth living, which, usually, I would say it isn't. It really is, you know, but you didn't hear that from me. I have an image to protect. True, it's my own image of me, but it's what I've got so I'm holding on to it for dear life (which may or may not be worth living). Oh, yes, I am often, if not always, long winded, but it's too late to do anything about that now. As to the rest, well, this is the Holiday Season so I am going to not be Scrooge but rather cheerful, pleasent, and full of good cheer. I haven't been full of good cheer since I gave up drinking, but that makes no nevermind, this year I am determined to be filled to the splintered brim with nice. That's my Christmas gift to all of you, I'm going to be nice. For a while. A little while. A very little while. Nice. Even though it hurts my face, nice. I will even go so far as to wish Happy Holidays to those jerk-off philosophers, the blowhard Big Bearded Three of film (M/C/MP), that snatch-and-grab artist Mister King, and all those tone deaf bozos who have worked so hard to destroy music. Happy Holidays Kats and Kitties. My your lawsuits be merry and bright. And to all of you here at defenselessARTHROPOD I wish a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, may Santa smile on you, and Amazon fill your socks. May everything be nice. You're nice, I'm nice, everyone is nice. Falalalala fala la la. And there I am, gone.
Oh, and by the way, It was Charton Heston who said "Oh My God!" in The Omega Man. See? Nice.