Return of the Oldskool

Just got back from redneck white-trash-bar karaoke with my old boy Joe, his wife Weege, Jamie and her dad Lynn, and my old Kuwaiti friend Fatema tonight. I sang "Tubthumping" and "Come on Eileen," drank a whole hell of a lot ('cause the booze was really weak), and...well, just generally lived it up. Things ended a little early because Joe and Weege had to drive Fatema back to Morgantown and it's snowing a bit out, but that didn't change the fact that I had such a wonderful time hanging out with my old Uniontown friends that right now I could honestly drop dead and would consider my whole life worth it.

Christ, I miss Joe and Weege and Jamie and everyone. It was so wonderful to see them all again. Looks like tomorrow the oldtime rock and roll will continue, as well! I will make the most out of every single second of it.

Werd to ya mutha.

Merry Fucking Suck My Dick.

I loathe this time of year. LOATHE IT. From yesterday until New Year's Even, I completely despise the "Holiday Season."

I mean, I used to love it, when I was a kid and I couldn't see further into it than the presents and the excellent holiday cartoons like Frosty the Snowman and my alltime favoriteRudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer--which I have on DeeVamaDee and still watch constantly, regardless of everything else. But now that I'm older, I can clearly see what a shallow, moronic festival of kneejerk consumerism and forced "cheer" it is. Hey, I've got nothing against consumerism--capitalism is my idol, and gods know I love shelling out the dollar-signs for goods as much as the next acquisitive jerk--but why masquerade it behind a thin veneer of fancy-schmancy holiday goodness? The fact that the Holiday Season is just an excuse to sell shit to people makes me roll my eyes, but ultimately the economic motives behind the whole shebang is not what irritates me.

It's the people.

I went to the Mall today, trying to get my paycheck from Wednesday cashed because the old National City bank open in this whore-assed old town on a weekend is in the Mall. So you know what that meant: there were at least sixty people in line. Now, I can't stand waiting in any lines longer than five other fuckers, but I will gladly do so when I've a paycheck that needs cashed. But not this line. Bunch of whiney old people complaining incessantly about the weather, family-boys and soccermoms yelling at their hyperexcitable rugrats, and people as generally nasty as I am...I couldn't deal with it. So screw the paycheck, I'll just walk around the Mall a bit an see if I run into anyone I know. That didn't happen, but I did get to elbow my way through hordes of glassy-eyed, slackjawed families surging around like drunken chiefs at an out-of-control potlatch festival, all trying to blow as much money as possible to shut up their screaming kids or outdo the in-laws in terms of giftgiving. I wanted to grab a hatchet and just start swinging.

The Holiday Season is synonymous with overworked nerves, as far as I'm concerned: mine, and everyone else's. I think the look in the Mall Santa's eyes said it all: a glazed, whiskey-powered stare of barely-restrained anguish. I could almost hear the poor fake-bearded man's thoughts: get me out of here, please, or at least give me a bottle of Jameson's or a shotgun before I go mad from hearing kid after kid after kid screaming about how he/she will just die if he/she doesn't get this year's Useless Crap Toy.

Some good came of the jaunt, however: I got Donnie Darko on DeeVamaDee at last, and also scored a used copy of the metal-tin boxed set of Hellraiser and Hellraiser II--complete with everything, even the lobbycards and stuff. It looks as if it has never been used. I proudly extended my middle finger to the dumb shit who let go of that treasure while shaking his hand for making it possible for me to snag it up for a big fat $25.