At 12:01 Christmas morning (for those who can't wait), I will run the guest post I wrote for Tracy Lynn (including a few lines she took out, because apparently her readers are pussies), as well as a Christmas story I wrote for you all to savor....after the lights are off, if you know what I mean. That one is definitely NOT for the kids.
Ask HAT
I GOT YOUR GRANDMA'S FRUITCAKE, RIGHT HERE
Dear Ask HAT,
What do you each want for Christmas?
Sincerely,
Might Be Santa
Hyperion: First, obviously, I want to get the hell out of this OutlawCamp, and back to civilization. (At this point, that would even, gulp, include New England. (This was orginally written back when I was in Canada, and obviously not thinking straight. I'd NEVER willingly go to New England.)) Obviously, it goes without saying, but like all our readers, I'd like to see this so-called Bodacious Rack Tracy's always bragging about. As for me personally, I'm somewhat against the idea of presents. There were several years where I actually demanded I be given none. My mom's relatives refused to listen, and I've since come to learn that Christmas isn't about getting what you what, but about what someone else wants to give you. Which means I'm probably in for a lot of ass-shaped hats.
But if I DID get to choose, I would like: a large walking stick, preferably made of gnarled black oak, a switchblade, and a giant army-style duffel bag, complete with padlock. Then I would be all prepared to walk the earth and have adventures. Oh, and beef jerky.
Tracy Lynn: You aren't allowed in New England. We took a vote. And I'm sorry, but you don't qualify for Bodacious Rack Membership at this time. We encourage you to apply again later.
And OF COURSE you're against presents. Leave it to you to suck all the fun out of a holiday in an effort to make some silly 'point'. Christmas, you git, is not about getting, it's about giving. The joy of GIVING. Duh. And in refusing presents, you refuse other people the Joy Of Christmas. You Bastard.
Now, what I would like for Christmas is books, a sweater and Veronica Mars on DVD. HEE!
Hyperion: Yeah, Christmas is about giving the same way politicians are about giving to their community in service. Maybe for a few, but most end up caring a lot more about what it's in it for them. I have given up trying to keep relatives from buying me presents. I asked for a few years that they donate the money to charity, but no dice. So I succumb to the nihilism of the season. Ho ho ho.
But don't tell me about the magic of Christmas. It's lost its way, if it ever had a way. We celebrate traditions with no idea why we actually do them other than that we've always done them. We get together with friends and family, and that can be good, but often its more stressful than not and can even cause depression.
And the money we spend on Christmas each year could get one third world country off it's back. Maybe more. Yeah, I'm the bastard.
Tracy Lynn: You, H, are the Grinchiest Grinch there ever was. You are a sad example of all that is wrong with the season. Your tiny black heart needs to be cracked open to let in the joy that is the holidays. I can't speak for anyone else, but I LOVE giving presents, and since I get a fair sum of money for Christmas from various generous relatives, I always donate a percentage of that to charity, as well as what I donate the rest of the year. So don't tar everyone else with your miserly brush, Scroogey O'Scroogerson. Many people ARE about the true spirit of Christmas, and it's not our fault your heart hasn't grown three sizes yet.
Hyperion: Well, Cindy Lynn Who, let's see you answer my list with this "giving spirit." There's one particular item you're perfectly suited to fill, if you know what I mean.
Tracy Lynn: Sometimes, calling you an asshat is a piss-poor substitute for punching you in the head. And with that, loyal readers, the George Washington rule comes into effect. We exit stage left, some of us more gracefully than others, and wish you all the best and most hopeful for the Season and the Year To Come. And not in a sick way, you frickin' perverts. Good grief,can't we even have a moment here?
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