Annoying Christmas Newsletter, 2009

I know what you're thinking. 2009 was such a sucky year let's just be done with the holidays and get our game on into 2010. Well, in the interest of being a glass-half-full type of person (one of my New Year's resolutions from back in January when we still had some faint hope a of a year that didn't suck), I've determined that some things which, on the surface, seem to suck, may have the proverbial silver lining, and there are still a few things that don't necessarily suck at all. So, here's my list of things that didn't suck in 2009.

The Recession - Suddenly it's a lot easier to find a parking spot at the mall. Awesome.

Unemployment - As one of the millions who has enjoyed being unemployed for a good part of the year, I'm here to tell you that having a job is entirely over-rated. Sure a paycheck is nice, but what could replace the quality time we gain to cruise the internet, make new "friends"on Facebook, watch daytime TV, go on pointless job interviews, and bond with our pets? And what a wonderful opportunity to hone our people skills, fending off bill collectors and smoozing the folks over at the EDA. Seriously, it's all in the spin.

Stonehenge - Sure it's just a big pile of rocks, and it was wicked cold when we were there one day last winter, at sunrise, but it didn't suck.

Global Warming - So just what's wrong with wearing flip-flops and shorts all year long?! And, no down jackets forever! Besides, the jury's still out on that one, isn't it? At least that's what George W. Bush asserted about evolution a few years back, and I'm pretty sure the same principle applies to global warming.
Sarah Palin - OK, you're right, Sarah Palin totally does suck. And the fact that she may run for President in 2012 and is making gazillions on that fake "memoir" she "wrote" sucks too. But, if it weren't for her we wouldn't have Levi Johnston, who has proven to be an endless source of
entertainment and bemusement for all of us Pop Culture freaks, or pearls of wisdom like this: "It is as throughout all Alaska that big wild good life teeming along the road that is north to the future." (Extolling the virtues of Alaska in her last speech as governor, July 26, 2009.) This woman is truly a national treasure.

Canada - We went there in August. Went zip lining in Whistler. Survived. What's not to like, eh?
The Health Care Crisis - Just like having a job, affordable health care is entirely over-rated. Who needs health insurance when you can always sell your house, your car, and maybe a kidney to pay for that appendectomy! And besides, IF you somehow manage to make it to 65, it's free anyhow! So just settle back in that wheelchair and chill awhile. You'll be able to get that hip replacement you've been needing on-the-house before you know it. (What? You're only 39? Damn, that sucks.)

Death Panels -- Death panels don't suck because they don't exist. Think LSD babies, they didn't exist either, though back in the sixties they tried to scare us out of tripping with tales of our progeny as pin-headed monsters with fangs and tails. (On second thought, maybe that could account for my stepson.)

I haven't received a single cat calendar this year and it's already Christmas Eve -- Not that cat calendars suck per se, it's just that last year I got five of them. Nobody needs five calenders of any kind unless they're suffering from Multiple Personality Disorder, and even then it's highly probable that least one of them will be a dog person.

Medical Marijuana -- As if the weather alone isn't reason enough to move to California

Norwood Young's Christmas Display - Not one to let the recession dim his enthusiasm for the season, or the lights on his lawn, Hancock Park neighbor Norwood Young once again dazzles with an over-the-top extravaganza of tasteless excess and shameless self-promotion. This year's tableaux features, in addition to the usual African American Santas and festively fastooned naked "David" statues, an idealized, larger than life cutout of the man himself, looming over his domain. And did I mention there's a snow machine?

The Countrypolitan Kitchen - Speaking of shameless self-promotion, check out my food blog, The Countrypolitan Kitchen, which does not suck unless you're on a diet. Dieting definitely sucks.
Santa Claus -- OK, I know some of the elves might not agree with me, especially the ones who got laid off, but Santa Claus does not suck. Sure, it was a rough year at the Pole, cuts had to be made, and Mrs. Claus got a bundle after the big guy got caught with that bar hostess in Orlando, (not to mention how much it cost him to repair the sleigh), but how can you really hate a guy who still gives little kids guns for Christmas?!

Little "Johnny" from Georgia wants an AK-47, and I'm betting he get's it, especially since he's holding the teddy bear hostage.

Christmas at The Grove -- It kinda sucks that they didn't have the Top Hats dancing girls troupe back this year.
But then, who needs the Santa Sluts (RIP) when over at the Farmer's Market you've got Victorian Carolers and a Po' Boy sandwich?
Pet Photo Night at Santa's Workshop -- As the old saying goes, a picture really is worth a thousand words.

The U. S. to New Zealand currency exchange rate - At $1.40 NZ to every $1.00 US it's not as good as it used to be, but it doesn't suck either. That's our excuse for spending the remainder of the holiday season in the Cook Islands. That and the fact that we celebrated our 15th anniversary this year and want to return to where we spent our honeymoon. So, while you guys are freezing your butts off New Year's eve back east, up north, down south, or wherever you're parking it these days, we'll be soaking up the sunshine on a blue lagoon in Rarotonga. Which brings me back to why global warming may not suck so much after all.
My Posse -- friends, family, and pets; you are all, quite simply, the best. And if any of you sucked at all this year, (Hank, you SO ripped that hole in the back of the sofa), I didn't notice, or at least pretended not to, because I love you so much.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS! MERRY CHRISTMAS! Shalom. Peace. May your days, be merry and bright, and I hope your new year doesn't suck.

Eating Arugula for Halloween

The scene was rockin', all were digging the sounds
Igor on chains, backed by his baying hounds
The Coffin-Bangers were about to arrive
With their vocal group, "The Crypt-Kicker Five"
Monster Mash - Bobby "Boris" Pickett and The Crypt-Kickers

Walking around the hood looking for an image to grace my Halloween entry, the scariest thing I could find has absolutely nothing to do with Halloween. Or does it? Can you really imagine anything scarier than living here?

I’m thinking the upstairs Obama supporters are palling around with terrorists 24/7, rockin’ out to Barbra Streisand and Lil Wayne, and crunching their arugula salads and slurping their lattes, very loudly. Meanwhile the McCainers downstairs are probably entertaining Joe Six Pack, Joe the Plumber, Tito the Builder and Bubba the Bigot, (the GOP’s own version of The Village People), blasting Hank Williams, Jr. and Kid Rock on the Hi-Fi, (no that’s not a typo), and all of ‘em taking turns slow dancing with a Bible Belt Barbie (you know who that is) blow-up doll. It’s as close to hell as either household could live without getting singed.

Predictably Mr. McCain Supporter slithered out of his lair and asked me to stop taking photos. I lied. Told him I was photographing the pitiful little scarecrow he had leaning against a tree, (so pathetic you can’t even see it here), the one that resembles what McCain himself is probably going to look like after he gets the stuffing knocked out of him next Tuesday, for a photo essay on Halloween décor for the Westside Weekly. He didn’t buy it. The way he carried on you’d have thought I was going to post his address in my blog, thereby inciting the denizens of our predominately arugula eating, latte drinking community to storm his house, (like the mob in Frankenstein), smash his picture window, and steal his Obama/Palin sign. (That would be in the 800 block of 4th Street, on the NW corner of 4th and La Jolla. Bring your own torch.)

In the interest of full disclosure, I eat arugula with the best of them and, as for latte, let’s just say I forever abandoned any idea of moving back to the old hometown when Starbucks posted their hit list back in July and the only one in the town was marked for closure. Frankly, when I die I don’t much care if I go to heaven or hell, as long as there is a Starbucks at the airport when I get off the plane. You get the idea.

What’s more, I’m a card carrying member of so many so-called left wing liberal organizations, that the only campaign calls I get, robo or otherwise, are from the side of any given issue I’m most likely to agree with. Not that it matters. At this point they’re totally wasting their time. I’ve already voted. Absentee ballot. Done. Finished. And, quite frankly, I can’t imagine such calls doing any good anyway at this point in time. I mean seriously, who in their right mind is still “undecided?”

I’m with David Sedaris (one of my most favorite satirists) who says in last week’s New Yorker:

I think of being on an airplane. The flight attendant comes down the aisle with her food cart and, eventually, parks it beside my seat. “Can I interest you in the chicken?” she asks. “Or would you prefer the platter of shit with bits of broken glass in it?”

To be undecided in this election is to pause for a moment and then ask how the chicken is cooked.

I wish I’d said that.

I did a little dialing for Obama myself a couple of Sunday afternoons last month. My motives were pure and my intentions honest, but I quickly discovered I wasn’t cut out for the job. While my heart was in the right place, the words threatening to come out of my mouth most decidedly were not.

First of all 90% of the people you call aren’t going to answer when they see a number they don’t recognize on their caller ID. Most of those who do are either going to hang up as soon as you identify yourself, scream obscenities in your ear, or pretend you have a wrong number. (“I’m no longer at this number,” being my favorite.)

Then there are the inevitable Republican voters. Our script directed us to thank them for their time, encourage them to vote anyway and politely hang up. For the life of me, I could not bring myself to encourage one of those morons to vote. “Stay home, have a beer, fire up the bong, screw the wife/husband/girlfriend/boyfriend/neighbor/cat/dog/whatever turns you on. But whatever you do, do not vote. It’s pointless. Your one measly little vote won’t mean shit. Save the gas. It’s going to continue to go up no matter what you do, and since your candidate’s a stone sure loser anyway why waste money driving to the polls. And by the way, I just talked to your sister. She’s voting for Obama.”

Finally you get the trolls who demur that they’re still undecided. At this point I’m supposed to ask them what issues might be the sticking points, but why bother? The way I figure it, they’re either lying or eight innings short of a baseball game. “Let me make it simple for you. You’ve got one party running two totally adequate, rational, and seemingly decent, (if inevitably flawed, as are we all), human beings. The other party has a demonstrably ill-tempered, decrepit warmonger running with a whacked out Christian Dominionist Twinkie who thinks Turkistan is some kind of rug. What’s to decide? And a happy Halloween to you too.”

I went home, sent a generous check to the Obama campaign as an alternate, albeit less personal and satisfying, way of doing my part, and poured a glass of California Chardonney to wash down my arugula sandwich.

Some chocolate might help too. But no recipe in this post. Until the election’s over I’m concentrating on finishing off all the leftover Halloween candy. It’s here, it’s stale, and it’s unhealthy, not unlike the junk food diet the Republicans have been force-feeding us for the past 8 years. Enough already.

Next Tuesday if things go my way, I promise you the best damn chocolate cake recipe I know. Stay tuned.