Post Holiday Thoughts

I hate blogs that start off with, "Well, it's been so long since I wrote anything I doubt that anybody is still reading this. I'll try to do better though starting now." And then you have more blank pages for the next six months. If you are one of those bloggers just ... quit it.

Ok, I had to get that out. I feel better now.

Ding dong, the holidays are dead. It is safe to enter the highways around the mall again. And you can actually park within a five minute walk of Target. That's what I like about January. Shoppers just ... give up. Perhaps they will wake up in the morning and say, "Well, no reason to shop today. I guess I'll take the Christmas lights down." I doubt it. But is that too much to ask? I found myself stopped at a traffic light this evening shortly after dark. I was looking across a piece of rolling terrain into a local subdivision where a house was still blatantly assaulting the world with strings of lights. (What precisely do multi-colored lights have to do with the birth of the Savior of the world? Did the stable double as one of those rent-by-the-hour roadside motels where they hang colored lights in hopes of tricking you into thinking they are the Hyatt on steroids?) Before I knew it I realized I was calculating distance, wind speed and direction, and wondering if I could somehow borrow a howitzer to take their lights down for them. That's probably over kill too, huh?

You probably think I hate Christmas. Not true. I love Christmas. I am simply not a big fan of the way we celebrate it. If Jesus were to have been born in 2012 there would be no manger and stable. The swaddling clothes would not be tolerated and would be promptly replaced by the results of countless baby showers. Can you picture baby Jesus in footy pajama's with a little hood that sports rabbit ears? Me neither. Obviously that's why He came in approximately 0000. The thought of all of those pictures and the endless stream of relatives and pilgrims parading in front of the nursery viewing window was just too much for Him.

Justin Bieber has a Jesus tattoo? Seriously? How does he know that? Has he really ever seen a picture of Jesus? It's just as likely that the picture resembles some long forgotten Camel Taxi Driver from Lower Jerusalem. He had the picture put on his leg. Evidently he also has a tattoo of a dove and the Hebrew script of Jesus name. So I guess Justin's chosen his faith. Good for him. I suppose I'll have to stop getting a head ache when I see or hear him because it appears we are going to be bunk mates for eternity. I, on the other hand, don't have any tattoo's. Do you suppose Justin will find this irritating? Maybe I should get some ink? I thought about putting John 3: 16 on my bicep but when I tried it with a pen I found out I have more of a John 11: 35 physique. (Look it up.) I guess it's not your daddy's bicep.

No snow. Non. Nada. Zero inches. I sense that the snakes are peeking out of their holes in the creek behind my casa thinking maybe winter was a false alarm this year. Drat. I had this dream about skiing this winter too. It's been a few years. My Orthopedic Surgeon has stopped sending me Christmas cards. I'm 56. I don't have enough winters left to give one over to an off season heat wave. And don't go all "global warming" on me. I recycle.

Some really important stuff happened at the Iowa Caucuses this week. I have no idea what. When somebody figures out who is running please shoot me an email and let me know. Then I'll figure out who I'm voting for. I realize that this sounds childish, irresponsible, and immature. I should pay attention through the entire process. But I have a shorter than average attention span. I have ADHD. That is such an amazingly convenient condition to get diagnosed with. It's like the Swiss Army Knife of psychotic mess-ups. It comes in handy for nearly any accusation thrown your way. "Sorry! I'm totally ADHD! The doctor said so. Hey, do you have any Twinkies?"

O-Bama, Hey Bama, Bama Bama Ho, Bama Hay, Bama Ho, Bama. (To be sung to the tune "Hosanna" from Jesus Christ Super Star. It actually works. If you sing it be sure to send your royalties in...)

Well. There's a wasted 5 minutes you'll never get back. Peace - OUT!