Showing posts with label Merry Christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Merry Christmas. Show all posts

Sunday, December 25, 2016

Merry Christmas From Cranberry County Magazine

We're just stopping in to wish you and your family the happiest of holiday seasons.

Doing a lonely 12 hour shift Christmas at the hotel, but I have my tree for company. 

No, I don't know why we have both a star and an angel. My guess is that we had not one but two tree topping ornaments, we let them fight it out, and the angel won. The angel's victory may have involved Divine Might, but it also my have been influenced by how much cord we had for the star.

I seem to recall the angel standing alone, perhaps on my desk, last year. It just goes to show you that, even if you ride the bench or sing in the chorus, circumstances might put you up on top of the tree someday. I'd say that it's sort of like A Star Is Born, but that might offend the actual star in the photo. It's also sort of like Rudolph's story, but Rudolph doesn't fare too well in today's column (see below), so we'll just move on to the next tangent.

The housekeepers (from India) sense that I may be a bit sad about spending Christmas alone in an empty hotel like Jack Torrance, so they have been trying to cheer me up without speaking English by showing me pictures of the mango farm they own back home. 

 While we don't like to throw our weight around, we do feel an obligation to let you know that Santa saw fit to give drone strike capacity to Cranberry County Magazine. It's, like, in the back of the bag.


Belmont Circle rotary, Buzzards Bay.... Bourne likes blue nights at night, I like blue lights at night, but my camera has no love at all for blue lights at night.

Somebody in Marsh Vegas is getting coal in their stocking this year.

When you hang Rudolph in effigy, especially when you do so after slitting Rudolph's throat so that the blood doesn't spoil the meat, it moves you right up the Naughty List in Spring-Heel Jack style leapfrog bounds.. This dude is getting nothing for Christmas this year, but that matters little to a well-motivated man with a rifle and 250 pounds of fresh, infmaous venison. 


Is he vomiting up Hot Tamales? That's kind of cool, actually.

Still, ain't no one tryin' to see that on Christmas...

OK, almost no one... 

Bumbles went out like a sucker in his only TV appearance, and isn't above holding a grudge. There may be blood on those paws for all we know, and a stench that all of the perfumes of Arabia couldn't, uhm, de-stench. 

This is a personal grudge of mine, and I may be on an island here.... but does anyone merit his own spinoff Christmas special more than Bumbles does? The friggin' Little Drummer Boy has a special, as does Dominick the Italian Christmas Donkey. Bumbles is suffering mad holiday disrespeck!

I could write a Bumbles holiday special in 45 minutes if there was a check waiting and I had access to high-grade marijuana. I'd have him rampaging through the Yukon, swallowing Eskimo children whole, before getting the Christmas spirit and switching teams at the coda. It'd be like A Christmas Carol , but with major plot elements lifted from both War Of The Gargantuas and 30 Days Of Night.