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My "Happy Holidays" column By Clyde Thursday, December 21, 2006 Here we are once again, getting ready to celebrate the birth of Christ. Whether it is 5 months early or 7 months late depends on your perspective. On the other hand, is it 7 months early and 5 months late, I don't know, I digress. Contrary to popular belief, I actually enjoy this time of year. I know it doesn't show, being the blustering blowhard that I am. If truth were told, this is one of my favorite times of the year. It is the time of year where people smile a little faster and treat each other a little nicer and you can take the crap of everyday life a little better. However, it can also be a very bittersweet time. As I sit here trying to think of what I want to convey, I begin to think of my parents. Here it is, another holiday and it saddens me that I cannot spend it with them. Then I think that while they may not be here in body, they are in my heart and that gives me some comfort. I would be lying if I tried to say that I wasn't getting a little weepy writing this, thinking about my parents and all, but then I think to the special times of holidays past. I remember the year that my Dad (Clyde) brought home this really big box with Mom's name on it. (Joyce) It drove Mom nuts trying to figure what he had gotten her. She tried her best to figure it out and even resorted to trying to trick my Dad into giving her a clue as to what it was. On Christmas Day, she finally got to open the box, only to find a smaller one inside, then another inside that one. She opened box after box until she got to the smallest and to her dismay, all she found inside was just an ordinary red clay brick. Oh was she peeved, she just could not figure out why her husband of 40+ years had given her such a strange gift. It wasn't until Dad told her to look on the other side that she finally found the $500 he had taped to the bottom. That was one of those special family times that cannot be bought for any price. To some, his gift may have been only money, but to me, it was the greatest gift that one person could give to another. He went to all that work making sure every box fit within the other. Made sure that shaking it would not give her a single clue as to what it was. And all he got in return was the squeal of surprise and a smile that lit up the room. That smile was contagious and it was Dad who had gotten the best present of all, a happy family having fun together. Then there was the time that my Dad and some of his Army Reserve buddies decided that it would be appropriate for them to do a chorus line dance at the annual Christmas party at the Reserve Center. The wives were given the task of coming up with their costumes. Big Mistake! To say these women got creative would be an understatement. When it came time for the show, a bunch of men who normally saw each other clad in fatigues were treated to an array of dresses that would make a New York fashion designer sew his eyelids shut. The were poodle skirts, evening gowns, chorus line costumes and one was even dressed as a stripper. However, the one that stole the show was Sgt. Clyde in the pink tutu. What Dad didn't know was that Mom had altered the outfit after the last fitting to include two big red hearts, one for each cheek. I still have the picture of Dad with two big red hearts affixed to his posterior, standing on tippy-toes doing a pirouette. Priceless! Here was a room full of people having a good time with friends and family and a lot of the fun was because of one woman, Mom. Whether you celebrate Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanzaa, whatever, it is not the gift that is given, but the love that it was wrapped in that is important. Does it really matter if she got that tennis bracelet she wanted or the new belt sander he was hoping for? No, it is the time spent with family and friends that makes the holiday. It is not the carol you sang but the chorus with whom you sang it that really makes this time of year special. Take these times and hold them dear, for life is short and we lose the ones we love far too early. Mom and Dad are gone now and memories tend to fade over time, but feelings last a lifetime. I may not remember exactly what I was given on the Christmas of 1972, but I can still feel the love and happiness that we shared. So in closing I guess what I am trying to say is, treasure this time in your life. Feel the love from those who make you happy and give of yourself freely. Enjoy the laughter, camaraderie and fellowship that this time of year is supposed to represent. Remember those who are not with you in body but still live within your heart. Thank you all for sharing your time with me this year, by just reading what I write, you have given me the greatest gift of all. To you all, I want to wish a very Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, Happy Kwanzaa and Happy Holidays. Merry Christmas Mom and Dad, I love you and I miss you. Permalink :: 0 comments :: Post a Comment   Somebody forgot to send me the memo By Clyde Thursday, December 14, 2006 I do know why, but for some reason I must have been left off the distribution list. For quite some time I have noticed that, developments in the world are coming to my attention late and therefore I can only deduce that I am not receiving the memos indicating that changes are being made. I did not get the memo that said that when the November 2006 elections were over, we immediately begin the campaign for 2008. Jesus Christ, give us a fucking break, there are far more important issues to discuss. Frankly, I could not really give a shit if Hillary is going to run right now. Yet, here we are with Tweety and the rest of the Looney Tunes gang debating whether someone with the middle name Hussein can be elected. It is inconceivable to me that the 2008 election has more bearing on today's debate than the huge shift in the balance of power that just occurred in the last election. However, this development did not even get as much air time as when Britney Spears flashed her clam to Paris Hilton. I did not get the memo that said it was okay for RainMan to take his sweet assed time making a decision on the war in Iraq. How fucking hard is it anyway? You either go big, go small or get the fuck out of Dodge. There is not a whole lot of wiggle room, yet, Commander McChimp has decided to decide after the holidays. I am sure that makes the troops stuck in a sectarian civil war feel all warm and fuzzy inside knowing that their fate lies in whether Georgie got a sweater or the GI Joe with the Kung-fu grip he so desperately wanted. Is this the decisive leader we were told about for the last 5 years, or is this the same fuck who sat in a fucking classroom full of third graders while our nation was under attack? (Please note that the reference to Bush as RainMan was not done to offend the idiot savants of the world. At least they have a skill.) I did not get the memo where it is okay for the "lesbian" Mary Cheney to become a daddy. Was this not someone who helped her father run a campaign dominated by the denial of civil rights to the gay community? Yet, now it is okay to put her feet in the stirrups and get the Butterball injection! Where is the outrage and backlash from the Christo/fascists? Oh, we have heard a few whimpers from a few Evangelicals, but for the most part, we have heard nothing. Finally, someone did not send me the memo where it said it was okay to strap a camera to a dog's head in order to make a "Holiday" movie. Where is PETA on the Barney-gate scandal? Here we have a dog that is being forced to run around the White House checking out the "Holiday" ornaments and making Tony Snow look like a bigger fool that he already is. Do not get me wrong, while it may be cute to some that a canine films his testicular tongue bath, it smells of animal exploitation to me. One must wonder how long before those intimate moments that he and Mrs. Beasley share are going to be floating all over the internet and Rick Santorum begins pistoning his fist like a jackhammer. Oh the horror of it all! Permalink :: 0 comments :: Post a Comment   Declaring War on Christmas By Clyde Thursday, December 7, 2006 They want it they got it; I am officially declaring war on Christmas. I am sick and tired of the Christo/fascists of this country and their poor put upon persecution complexes. My God, these people whine more than a newly promoted Al Qaeda Number Three. The fact of the matter is that Christmas is not Christmas anymore. It has been perverted by corporate America balance sheets and Bible thumpers who want to control society. "Peace on earth and good will toward men" has been replaced by Grand Theft Auto video games and "Dreaming of a White Christmas" no longer involves snow. I have had it up to my friggin eyeballs over this so-called war and it is my aim to give them exactly what they deserve. No more, will I put up with being told Merry Christmas and I mean it. It would be one thing if it were said with meaning but most of the time it is just some poor sales clerk trying to get your ass out of the store. Think about it, these people have to say this shit to every customer, all day long and who in the hell are we to tell them they can't mix it up with a Happy Fucking Holidays once in a while. Frankly, they can save mine and give it to some Christian Commando buying a new bulb for his Chinese manufactured Nativity Scene. Whatever happened to just saying, "thank you, come again?" It works the rest of the year. Does it really need to change because a bunch of goat herders in the Dark Ages decided they would change the birthday of Christ to coincide with the Pagan Winter Solstice? Speaking of Nativity Scenes, I say we outlaw them. They are nothing more than Christo/fascist bullshit if you really think about it. An objective look at the story proves me correct. A man and his pregnant wife are turned away from the inn but allowed to stay in a manger. Mary squeezes out her puppy and magically three wise men show up with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. What is missing from the story from here on? The inn keeper. You have three guys standing outside your barn giving valuable shit to the homeless family camped out in your shed and you do not go investigate? Surely, upon hearing that your donkey had just witnessed the birth of the "SON OF GOD" you would give the new mother a room to stay in, right? Or at least, even if you were a callous fuck, the notion that gold was now involved would be enough of an inducement for you to kick the traveling rug salesman out of 2B. Nuff said! All Christmas carolers must be pelted with snow balls until they shut the fuck up. End of story. On the subject of snow balls, Fuck Frosty! The bastard is going to be icing down my beer in six months anyhow. Then there is the myth of Jolly Ole St. Nick. I thought the religious right did not approve of sexual perversion. Think about it, you have an overweight old man hanging out at the North Pole all year long, then only comes to town one a year to play with some little kid's undergarments. I know the story says that he leaves gifts or lumps of coal in their stockings hanging in front of the fire to dry, but I think he just another crazy old coot with a foot fetish. And come to think of it, to hell with the stocking stuffers anyway. If I am to receive something in stockings, it had better be 5'2" eyes of blue, grapefruit sized titties and an ass that does not create a cellulite tsunami when spanked. To be blunt, Santa Claus can kiss the fattest part of my ass! Instead of hanging out at the mall playing candy cane peek-a-boo with a bunch of toddlers, he can HO HO HO his happy ass back to the North Pole and watch midget porn with Rudolph. I bet you are thinking, Clyde you have went too far, Santa is a good guy and you should not talk about him like that. Bullshit! He is a sweat shop owner that pays his elves below minimum wage and no health insurance. Oh sure, he gives them free room and board but how long do you think it will be before they forgo the sugarplums and start getting visions of Comet and Vixen straddling a baked potato? Do not get me wrong, I used to love Christmas time, but Christmas stopped being Christmas a long fucking time ago. It used to be about love of family and friend, of good will towards the other person on the street and about "time." Time you spent on someone else, now it is seeing who can beat the other guy's brains out for the last video game console. It used to be you made your present for someone; you took time out of your life for another. Now it is only a mouse click and credit card charge away. So yes, I am declaring war on the Christmas we now know. To Arms! Permalink :: 0 comments :: Post a Comment