Annual Christmas Card Bitching Post

The first Christmas Card arrived over the weekend from a former student of my husband.  Three photos on a card.  Children.  Lovely girls.  No personal greeting.  No signature.  

Why the hell bother.  


so . . .

Again.  Word for word, is last years post.

If I am on your Christmas Card list, I'm delighted.  Whether you are a friend, an acquaintance, or merely someone who has repaired my furnace or cleaned my teeth, it doesn't matter.  I love a card.  I like those cards to be cute, glittery, gorgeous, filled with confetti, festooned with ribbon, city stylized, kissing kousin kountry, red and green, blue and white, black and yellow, and decorated with Jesus, snowmen, zebras, angels, trees, RVs, balls, bells, and whistles.

I also will read your newsletter.  If you care to send me the long form, I will happily read it because, chances are, I care.  And I really like it when you tuck in a photo of your kids, your dogs or your vacation home.   Especially the kid.   If I like you, then I probably like your kid.  I even want to know if they've made the honor roll or graduated from braces and headgear.

Just please, please, please don't send that one-sided, unsigned, undecorated photo of your dog, kid, or vacation home that poses as a complete holiday card.  And when you print out the envelope on your computer and your housekeeper then stuffs all of the envelopes, I'm going to want to tell you to stuff it.   Put a bit of ink on the damn thing or don't send it.  I'd rather you send me a picture on facebook of your middle finger.  At least that's personal.

Happy Holidays
Merry Christmas
Happy Kwanzaa
Happy Chanukah
and so on

Rides of the Republican Candidates Revisited

Once again, I did some Republican debate watching.  Wine involved of, course.  I felt I had to do just a bit of tweaking to my original Rides of the Republican candidates post.   What mode of transporation would your favorite candidate use:

Once again:

Chris Christie – Tony Soprano’s last trade-in.   Unpleasant air freshener.  Trunkful of unmatched DNA.

Marco Rubio – Luxurious, somewhat understated.  Seatbelt, rear view mirror and sideview mirrors well-used.  Bluetooth enabled.  Small posse in backseat Googling statistics to be distorted for future use.  Pleasing air freshener.   Oral hygiene kits from flying first class in glove compartment.

Dr. Ben Carson – Also luxurious and understated.  Amazing shock absorbers but restrictive speedometer.  Lacking GPS, yet pointed in the direction of home for a good brandy.

Walter Scott, uh, Tim Scott, um, Scott Walker (can never remember his name) – Non-union-built golf cart with steering disabled, heading for a water trap.  Cart decorated with photographs of aborted fetuses.

Donald Trump – Atop a rocket launcher or loose cannon.  Backs of poor people or Mexicans.  Oh hell, he’ll ride anything to get to the top.  Except Carly Fiorina.

Jeb Bush – Same as George W. only a newer model.  Small Mexican flag hidden in glove compartent.

Mike Huckabee – Empty refrigerator box in back yard, decorated as a time machine.  Four drawn-on control buttons inside box dated 29c, 1450s, 1633,  last Sunday 9:00 am.  (I wasn’t going to mention those from the ‘other’ debate, but Rick Santorum and Huckabee are having a little-girl hair pulling fight to see who’s turn it is in the box.)

Ted Cruz – giant lizard Dewback thing from Star Wars.  Saddle bags full of rocks, a couple of ninja throwing stars,  and a leather pouch containing a guide to correct middle eastern pronunciations, an asshole license and Canadian registration.

Rand Paul – Black horse in full jousting gear.  Worried that horse is more interested in grazing.

John Kasich – Late model Oldsmobile.  Those stick-figure family thingies on rear window.  Glove compartment containing tattered maps, ill-fitting driving gloves, partially used bottle of Old Spice.  Remnants of ‘coexist’ and rainbow flag bumper stickers.

Carly Fiorina.  Something sleek and blue.  Burns a great deal of fossil fuels.  Has fins.

And I just have to add one other.  Can’t help it.  Even though he’s moved on to better things.  He will be sorely missed.

Rick Perry – Clampet family truck.  Every time it hits a pothole, shit falls off – pots, pans, granny, luggage, lamps, rakes, and now Rick Perry himself.  Glove compartment filled with dark-rimmed glasses and upside down maps.

I have to admit I only watched 40 minutes.  Next time, I will persevere.

Rides of the Republican Candidates

Yes, there was enough wine in the house to take me to the 10:30 mark of the (main) debate last night.  Bed was calling and I knew what the answers would be and I just couldn’t yell anymore.  But once in bed, when I tried to imagine the country with one of them as a leader, I found it helped to imagine what kind of vehicle they would drive.  Sometimes I don’t sleep well.

Chris Christie – Tony Soprano’s last trade-in.  Trunkful of unmatched DNA.

Marco Rubio – Luxurious, somewhat understated.  Seatbelt, rear view mirror and side view mirrors well-used.  Bluetooth enabled.  Small posse in backseat Googling statistics to be distorted for future use.  Pleasing air freshener.

Dr. Ben Carson – Also luxurious and understated.  Pointed in the direction of home for a good brandy.

Walter Scott, uh, Tim Scott, um, Scott Walker (can never remember his name) – golf cart with steering disabled, heading for a water trap.  Cart decorated with photographs of aborted fetuses.

Donald Trump – Atop a rocket launcher or loose cannon.  Backs of poor people or Mexicans.  Oh hell, he’ll ride anything to get to the top.

Jeb Bush – Same as George W. only a newer model.  Small Mexican flag hidden in glove compartment.  

Mike Huckabee – Empty refrigerator box in back yard, decorated as a time machine.  Four drawn-on control buttons inside box dated 29c, 1450s, 1633,  last Sunday 9:00 am.  (I wasn’t going to mention those from the ‘other’ debate, but Rick Santorum and Huckabee are having a little-girl hair pulling fight to see who’s turn it is in the box.)

Ted Cruz – giant lizard Dewback thing from Star Wars.  Saddle bags full of rocks, a couple of ninja throwing stars and an asshole license and Canadian registration.

Rand Paul – Black horse in full jousting gear.

John Kasich – Late model Oldsmobile.  Those stick-figure family thingies on rear window.  Glove compartment containing tattered maps, ill-fitting driving gloves, partially used bottle of Old Spice.  Remnants of ‘coexist’ and rainbow flag bumper stickers.

Rides of the Moderators should be included:

Megyn Kelly – something small, red, fitted.  Car prepared to eat slower cars in front.

Chris Wallace – Suburu Outback.

Bret Baier – Oh. My. God.  I can’t see past the reflection off of the grill!

And I just have to add one other.  Can’t help it.

Rick Perry – Clampet family truck.  Every time it hits a pothole, shit falls off – pots, pans, granny, luggage, lamps, women voters, rakes, etc.  Glove compartment filled with dark-rimmed glasses and upside down maps.

Now I have to catch up on the debate of those that didn't make the top ten.  After I open the next bottle of wine.