Now, longtime readers of this esteemed publication know that our annual holiday gift to you is a president-free noozletter. However, in response to the imminent departure of the 43rd president, we suppose we should at least raise a flaccid holiday huzzah, as in, “Well, at least he’s leaving only having destroyed MOST things and not EVERYthing. Not for want of trying, of course. (By the way, if you know anyone who voted for him, be sure to never, ever, ever, ever, ever … ever let them forget it, OK?) As his days wind down, it’s like a prison sentence except in reverse, with the entire nation waiting to be sprung.nation enduring the long days until our release. And, as we’ve come to expect, like a very bad cat heading for the little plastic flap cut into the base of the White House front door, he’s peeing in all the corners on the way out, using every device he can muster to give more things to the corporations that have taken such good care of the economy in recent times, and working extra hard to tear down environmental laws that have proven helpful for such quaint things as species preservation and human health. The pee smell will pop up at weird moments for years, but at least we’re rid of that damned cat. The holidays are also the time for reflecting on the generous giving of others. To wit: Despite record deficits, every day is like Christmas, as Congress and the president have magically come up with a trillion dollars for the Iraq war, and close to another trillion to save bumbling financial giants and buffoonish car makers (abetted by the media repeating the mantra like a brainwashed North Korean prisoner, “They’re too big to fail.”) Now, that’s keeping Christmas in your heart every day of the year! Meanwhile, Congress, featuring cartoon characters such as Barney Frank, lurches about like a desperate drunk in your house, trying to save everything, but instead only breaking things and starting small fires. From ethanol subsidies (whoops, maybe people would prefer to eat that food rather than burn it in a gas tank) to home heating assistance (just in time to watch energy prices plummet), to the idea of combating high gas prices by lowering the federal gas tax (Great thinking! Just what the govt. needs—less money!), Congress is busy proving itself almost nearly just barely useful, but more than happy to keep spending money. Where’s all this money come from? Well, that’s the mystery and magic of the season, for deep down in our hearts, we know it comes from the Man in Red! That would be, of course, Wen Jiabao, premier of China. Yes, Virginia (and the other 49 states), there is a Santa Claus, and he speaks Mandarin. Happy Holidays!— The Editirs
FROSTY SPEAKS … For the Fourth *&^%!—ng Time
To your BNITL’s bemusement, it has become a dubious holiday tradition: In a bizarre twist on the usual Christmas specials filled with laughing elves, magical reindeer and singing, round-headed children, we embarrassedly allow the sclerotic, corpulent, bilious old snowman known as Frosty his forum from which to hurl down his expletive-filled tirades like a blizzard of f-bomb snowflakes. We, your humble editirs, cannot explain our readers’ fascination with this embittered creature and his potty mouth, but, yielding to the millions of letters your noozletter receives, we have brought him back yet again to yell at you.Yo, s’up? You want to know what’s really frosting my a-- this holiday season? Read it, baby.
Packaging You Have to F---ing Jackhammer Open... In a world that’s running out of oil, what in holy Hades are manufacturers thinking when they use a barrel of light sweet crude to make a bulletproof bubble over every goddamned eight-cent toy? You could f---ing amputate a finger trying to cut through that sh--. And good luck trying to not damage what’s inside.
Radio Stations That Play Non-Stop Christmas music: There’s nothing that can make a snowman puke up his turkey faster than hearing “O Little Town of Bethlehem” eight times before I’m finished with my goddamned Thanksgiving dinner. Corporate pr-cks. And, oh, by the way, did it occur to you that maybe something’s wrong with your whole f----ing radio industry when playing Christmas music before Thanksgiving is the most popular thing you do all year? Didn’t think so.
Cheap-Ass Presents from China: Here’s a bombshell for you: Air pollution from nasty-ass, prisoner-and-child-run Chinese factories takes six days to reach the US. Check out my shoulders. It’s dandruff in reverse. Think a little lead paint in Junior’s toy is your biggest problem? Yeah, asthma-inducing Asian air pollution is totally worth it when you saved 30 bucks on that new flat-screen.
People Who Say They’re Cutting Back for the Holidays: Give me a goddamned break. You’re a goddamned American! You have no f---ing idea how to cut back. What, are you going one size down on the super-maxi-gulp? Seriously, what? With the average American’s credit card debt at $10,000, you actually think you’re picking NOW to cut back? What’s the difference between going bankrupt owing $20,000 and going bankrupt owing $50,000? This is like kids playing make-believe. Yo, hate to tell you this, Junior Luke, but that’s not a real light saber. Eating a bowl of rice a day in goddamned Eritrea is cutting back. Get out of my face.
Snowmobilers Hoping for Snow: This is so mind-meltingly stupid that even I’m almost speechless. That’s like a jackass going hunting one year with a machine gun and mowing down 120 deer and hoping next season will be just as good. God-damn. Listen, Toothless, here’s the deal: CO2 causes global warming. Global warming melts snow. You need snow toyou’re your snow machine. Burning gas produces—oh, forget it. Besides, you don’t need snow to get drunk and run your machine into a tree. You can do that in your pickup.
People Who Catch Colds and Seem to Be Unaware of the Invention of the Tissue: GodDAMN, but do you really think I want to listen to sniffle your snot back into your nose all freaking day?! Who the hell raised you, muculent apes? You’d think the country was suffering from a worldwide tissue shortage. What, do you need an instruction manual? Wait, I’ll write it for you: Pretend your nose is your butt and wipe, moron!
Listen, that’s it for now from the F-Man. I’m off to the mall parking lot to watch holiday drivers do the behind-closed-windows “enraged guy” mime act as they yell at each other from inside their cars. Party on, people.
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