Ho! ho! ho! Everybody. It's Christmas time again and I hope you're feeling jolly and that your yuletide is gay. May you all be drinking eggnog, roasting chestnuts on an open fire (whatever the hell that means) and be entertained by the delightful Christmas caroling of the Knapp/Landreth family.
I checked out a Christmas movie from the library, the 1950 classic, White Christmas starring Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye. Remember in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation when Clark Griswold says, "We're gonna have the hap hap happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby danced with Danny fucking Kaye"? Well I'm watching that freakin' movie with the ol' kiddos.
Oh the things that have happened this year on the political front (because we always like to discuss politics over the holidays). Let me ask you, my fellow Kansans, haven't you often wished you lived in a place like Seattle, Washington where you can smoke dope and be a nudist and it's all legal? Well a Democrat was elected governor in Kansas and perhaps she'll see the economic and social wisdom of legalized marijuana. Wouldn't that be as wonderful as a winter wonderland? You're in your room, listening to Frampton Comes Alive on the stereo, hitting the bong and it's all legal. As regards public nudity, I don't think Kansans are ready for that, you know, our private stuff hanging out, but maybe one day.
More importantly, on the political front, Gov. elect Laura Kelly says she'll go for expanded Medicaid. Remember when Ebenezer Scrooge asked the ghost of Christmas present if Tiny Tim would live? Thanks to expanded Medicaid he will. But oh, if that scoundrel Kris Kobach were elected, the sentiment might be, "If he be like to die, he'd better do it and decrease the surplus population." But alas, Kobach is not to be governor and he can dedicate his energies to harassing Hispanics for their papers and keeping black people from voting.
But allow me to depart from this political discourse and talk about another subject from this 2018 year -- one much closer to my heart -- my family. My son, Max, has proven himself as a stage performer making his debut as a thespian in the high school play (what the hell was it called?) Anyhow, when I first saw him made up and wearing his costume, I thought, "Great, they stuck him in a clown suit." But it was original and it worked. He was comedic, had the timing, showed a knack for physical comedy with his jumps and falls and this movement from his tall, lanky body reminded me of Buster Keaton.
This year, young Max is again, on his high school wrestling team. It's hard work, the rigor of practice, making weight, the adrenaline before a match, but he's proving he can handle it. Recently in practice, let's just say he pinned a kid who needed a good sticking.
Then there's my lovely daughter, Gabby. This year, she participated in the scholar's bowl team for the middle school. In fact, she was team captain. She's in advanced placement English and all her teachers have noted that she has a gift for writing. Allow me to share with you a song she wrote about a strict math teacher at her school, named Ms. Andrews. There are certain lyrical references in the song that I need to explain to you. Students who don't get their homework done have to go to a program, held an hour before school starts in the morning, called Academic Success. Also, Ms. Andrews' brother is gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I have friends who are gay. I'm not like that guy, Vice-Pres. Mike Pence who believes in the discredited gay conversion therapy. Anyhow, the song:
Andrews Rap
Who has short black hair and teaches math?
Who isn't afraid to show kids her wrath?
It's every one's favorite teacher and mother
Not to mention her wildly homosexual brother
Everyone knows that math is hard
But Andrews makes it harder when she yells, "Give me your card."
If you forget your homework, you gotta pray
and prepare for Andrews to say:
"See ya later!"
"Prepare to meet your creator!"
If you ain't ready for algebra one
then it's academic success for you, son
'Cause along with being nearly 50 years of age
Andrews don't mind showing off her rage.
Maybe when Trump builds that border wall
Andrews will be gone and that will be all
And nobody will have to hear her call:
"get to class!
"I'm gonna beat your ___."
I have a new woman in my life, Carly. She's sarcastic with a wicked sense of humor. I love her nose ring and the tattoo of a rose on her left boob. Anyhow, Carly's brother, Ronald, had a scrotal problem, specifically a swelling of his testicles and scrotal sack. Ronald's condition was Epididymitis -- an inflammation of the long tube that rests on the testicles. Sometimes this happens to men after having a vasectomy, I mean, not every man; I had a vasectomy and I've had no trouble with my nuts, but it can happen. Fortunately he got medical help and now Ronald and his testicles are doing fine.
I'm almost outa' here, but I want you to know there's a man, a bad man who thought he could trick me into landing in California, jobless, penniless, without food, shelter, shower or toilet. As if. This man is known for hatching cockamamie schemes aimed at screwing people. His anti-social behavior, I believe, stems from unresolved childhood issues (just my armchair psychology, I know) but that's no excuse for taking evil out on people. I am not at freedom to reveal this sad, pathetic man's identity, only that he is an official with government clearance who practises peculiar and unsanitary behavior with regard to public defecation. That is all I can reveal at this juncture. I guess I could be an asshole about it, but screw it. Merry Christmas.
This is it, but I just want to say I hope we're all nicer to people in the next year. I'm pretty chill. I can eat a meal with prostitutes, tax collectors and trump supporters. I despise everything about trump and everything he stands for, but I'm willing to be your friend if you let me. I'll never excoriate you for expressing your political views on Facebook no matter how wrongheaded I may find them to be. It's your right to express your views no matter how ignorant and intolerant they may be. I'm not going to get behind a screen and call you a "fucking idiot" because there's way too much of that and it's chickenshit anyway. I only wish you peace and hope you check your testicles, or your lady parts if you're a woman.
Merry Christmas,
J. Guy
Father Christmas -- The Kinks
