I sure am glad the Chinese buffets are open · 8:31pm Dec 25th, 2016

I get to have a Christmas meal of greasy, overly sweet "Chinese" food with a bunch of other loners, losers, derelicts, and poors! No, not failures... they go to the soup kitchen. Or die on the streets, but at least there's a choice, right?

Hey, look at that clearly single fat bearded guy warbling along with the Christmas music piping over the speaker, while he slops Mongolian beef on his (second) plate. Ha ha, what a character! I bet he doesn't have any mental problems what-so-ever.

Wow, there's a young couple sitting across from me holding hands and praying! God must not be listening, because they're eating at a fucking Chinese restaurant on Christmas! Well, maybe they're praying for the sweet release of death.

Holy shit, an entire family of blond people came in. What the hell is going on here? Do I really want to be around for this? _____No._____. I mean, the stench of incest hangs heavy here, like a halo of immorality and genetic diseases. God damn, I bet their DNA cries itself to sleep every night. I can't even finish this spring roll now.

(I just realized I left my fortune cookie in my car. Whoops.)

So a minivan parks in the empty chicken restaurant, and some little kid is stamping around outside and screaming at the top of her lungs. I have no idea what's going on, and I'm not making eye contact because I want to get home before it starts raining. So whatever.

Welp, another successful year of Christmases at the local Chinese buffet. Now I can go home and watch videos of volunteers trapping alley cats for spaying and neutering purposes while I listen to Komm Susser Tod from the End of Evangelion soundtrack.

Bah humbug you damn bastards.

....

What?

Hey, don't take it like that. I didn't actually mean that as an insult to you, personally. It's just part of the local color of this blog post. Come on, don't start crying. I didn't mean it.

Alright, look, let me try this. I'm doing this just for you, okay? Here I go:

Merry Christmas!

See, that works, right? You should be happy, because I sold out my principles to make you feel better. That's how much you mean to me, that'd I'd deny my very self, and participate in the vomiting that comes from doing so, just to show I care. Now we can all sublimate our constant, aching awareness of inevitable deaths and meaningless lives into celebrating family and friends and crass consumption or whatever the hell it is people do on Christmas (I was raised in an Armageddon cult, so I don't really know how this stuff works).

But yeah, Merry Christmas (See! I did it again!)!

Now fuck off.

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