A Christmas Note


Well there you go ladies and gentlemen.  The world is well on it’s way to hell in a hand basket.


Sony has stood up to the North Korean hackers in what can ultimately be described as a brilliant marketing scheme for a movie which for all intents and purposes (or tents and porpoises, take your pick) doesn’t deserve the hype.


Relations with Cuba are being normalized.


Canada is on the brink of civil war.


Even still, I sit here in a state of warm and fuzzy firmly ensconced in the new found knowledge that there are holes to be poked into the bullshit story that our celebration of Christmas around this time of year is not as heavily based on a pagan holiday as others would have us believe.


Earlier today I was out walking the pit bull.  As we humped our way up and down the hills in the neighborhood (trust me, that’s really not as dirty as it sounds), it occurred to me that a lot of our understandings of ancient civilizations is based on our sometimes limited interpretations of artifacts and the like which we may unearth on some ill fated snipe hunt out in the desert somewhere.


With that in mind, envision yourself many, many years in the future.  The atomic wars are complete.  Khan Noonien Singh has packed up on the Bounty and beat hell to get out of Dodge.  Skynet has succumbed to a nasty Trojan Horse.  Even Thundar the Barbarian has given up on things.  Mankind now shaves its head and wears nothing but silver jumpsuits.


All which we hold dear here in the early years of the 21st century like smart phones, social media, happy endings, and the movement of little green pieces of paper are all but a fractions of a second blip on the radar screen.  They know nothing of our ways at all.


One day, while wandering around in a cave somewhere, they unearth a piece of paper.  It’s no ordinary piece of paper like the refuse they normally find.  Instead, it’s a print out of the very blog post you are reading at this very instant.


Spooky, huh?


Leg LampThe long run-on sentences, comma splices, malaprops, obscure pop culture references, oxford commas, and naughty metaphors are lost on them completely.  The only part they do understand is my use of the word “Christmas”.  They extrapolate the use of “Christmas” and the supporting digital imagery I’ve posted with the blog in order to come up with what they feel is a pretty darned accurate representation of how we celebrate the birth of our Lord in these trying times.


A movement starts as a result to recreate the imagery in their own lifetime.  Sooner or later, other points of view are presented, and things just get ugly all the way around.


They stop shaving their head.


They incorporate more color into their wardrobe.


The government has to eventually banish the use of the suggested imagery on publically held properties in order to maintain a secular disposition about things.


Yeah, I don’t know where I’m going with this one.  I was humpin’ it up a steep hill (again, not so dirty) when I thought this one up and was a little winded.  I may have been a little oxygen deprived at the time.


Merry Christmas Y’all.


Randy Tharp

TharpSter is a husband to one woman, a father to two kids, a master to two dogs, an occasional cubical occupant, and unable to make up his mind on an adequate theme for this website.

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