You Know What We Don't Need?
Before I get on with tonight's scheduled hilarity, some sad news:
Pat Morita has died at 73. I've written many, many times about my affection for the Karate Kid movies, so I won't go into that, but for me, calling Morita a "beloved actor" is more than just a Hollywood cliché, and I think it's fair to say that he came a long way from being a nightclub comedian billed as "The Hip Nip." Although that is an awesome nickname, and I think he would've gotten a kick out of the Fark.com headline for his obituary: "Pat Morita passes away at age 73. Cobra Kai wanted for questioning." As for me, I'm going to try to remember him the way I think he'd want me to. Hugged against some blonde's rack:
Now, on with the show.
Today, as all of us in the retail industry know, is the biggest shopping day of the year, when the entire country rises from a turkey-induced coma with the burning need to buy a vacuum cleaner because it is twenty dollars Christopher and you need to get out of bed now. Or maybe that's just how it is at my house.
So, after setting up the nativity scene for what I hope will be the first of many ISB Christmas Cards, I took a trip to the outside world to partake in this year's mandatory consumerism. It was, to say the least, glorious.
Especially when you're in the middle of Wal-Mart and you have nothing at all to purchase. Scholar and gentleman Henry Rollins talks about how he likes to go to Rite-Aid when he has nothing to buy, just to watch the freakshow, and that feeling's magnified a thousandfold when you're in the middle of a blue-light feeding frenzy.
I eventually found myself at the mall, keeping myself entertained while my mom bought three Christmas cards to get a book titled--and this is true, you can check for yourself--The Snowbelly Family of Chillyville Inn, allegedly for her grandchildren. She was looking through the 99 cent section, trying to find a card worth buying, which is no mean feat. For less than a buck, you're pretty much getting a card that says: "Merry Christmas" on the outside, and "You know, because it's Christmas" when you open it.
That's when I found a few cards that I may just have to go out and buy to prove a point.
The first featured a picture of Santa confronting his reindeer, one of whom has ridiculously large antlers, saying something along the lines of: "All right, now which one of you stole my herbal supplement?!"
Yeah. Oh, it gets even better.
The second is a shot of Santa hugging Mrs. Claus, who says "You forgot to deliver one of your wooden soldiers." Santa responds: "That's not a wooden soldier."
I've given this a lot of thought today, and I'm pretty sure that the absolute last thing I need to get me in the Christmas Spirit is a greeting card that makes overt references to Santa's penis.