|Stephen Colbert, Bastion of Truthiness (truthy_patriot) wrote in undertherainbow,|
@ 2008-12-27 02:04:00
|Entry tags:||ares, stephen colbert, steve rogers, the word|
Christmas is supposed to be this huge glad tiding of joy and giving. If you're into that kind of Liberal thing.
But when I was growing up, it scared the living shit out of me. Think about it, folks-- you spend all your time as a parent instilling in your kids some really simple edicts: That you should never talk to strangers, that you shouldn't screw around on the roof, burglars are bad, and that kissing Uncle Ted is a familial obligation, even if that beard is really damned scratchy, full of the remainders of that meal you all just had, and he smells like the Anheuser-Busch brewery.
But then you go and turn all that on its head for this time of year, and you tell your kids, "Hey, this fat old guy dressed in bright red clothing that you only met once at the mall is going to break into your home while you're asleep, and you're going to like it." And so you leave him a bunch of cookies and some milk in the hopes that this bribe will distract the felonious fatass from taking an unnatural interest in your Playstation or your TV, because have you ever tried to get a restraining order against a guy who only stalks you once a year?
(Also, come on. Spending all that time with reindeer can't be healthy.)
So every Christmas Eve since I turned old enough to own a gun, I sit awake all night, watching NORAD track that criminal as he makes out like a Jenny Craig's nightmare bandit across the world, and wait for him to show up at my door so I can make like Dick Cheney on a hunting expedition.
I'm still waiting for you, Saint Nick. One day. One day.