Would You Really Punch Santa In His Fat Mouth?

I almost listened to the instructions in that old Ma Bell commercial, ya know the one that says to reach out and touch someone.

Phone in hand, I stared at the numbers and almost punched in the magic code that would allow it to ring but at the last moment chose not to.

I wasn’t sure if they would pick up and if they did I wasn’t certain whether I would start talking like no time had passed or make some smart ass remark about something or other.

Wasn’t sure if I would say, “hey I have been drowning and if you pull your hands out of the Cheetos I would appreciate your throwing me a life ring.”

That is the kind of opening that is likely to garner sympathy and concern but I opted against it because I am feeling grumpy.

And because I didn’t want to leave a message ‘cuz I didn’t want to end up being like Mike, which isn’t easy to do in modern times with modern technology.

Anyhoo, I don’t think my kids will ever appreciate that clip the way older folkdo.

Would You Really Punch Santa In His Fat Mouth?

If I had to choose between punching Santa in his fat mouth or fighting the moose in the picture above I would pick Santa.

Not because I am afraid of the moose because I am not.  Believe me if it is me and a moose in a room there is only one of us coming out of there and the bald dude would be wearing antlers.

I know, you think it is ridiculous because the moose is far larger and more physically imposing than I am.

That is true.

I am a Taurus and like my sign I have significant natural strength and horns, just ask the nazis I have been fighting with.

But while the good lord hasn’t blessed me with fur and two tons of fun he did give me a mighty tool and a brain.

If you are related to me do yourself a favor and don’t read that last line twice, you’ll thank me later.

Anyhoo, if the moose and I ended up doing that silly dance men do before we fight I would fool him into thinking I was afraid.

I’d shout, “I’m skeered” and go climb a tree.

The moose would stand around the tree figuring eventually I’d come down because I am cold and hungry.

Wrong move Moose.

I’d pee in it’s eyes and while it was thrashing about trying to find a way to wipe itself clean I’d come flying out of that tree like Tarzan and before he knew it, Bullwinkle would be wondering how Boris finally won.

But moose aren’t known for being particularly smart and I’d feel badly about beating him so handily. Remember, I am the guy that says hunting is much more interesting when you give the deer a bow or agree to engage in hand-to-hoof combat.

****

Santa is a different story, cuz Santa is human and I have reason to enjoy misanthropy occasionally.

The bastards that created certain circumstances, they could all dress up like Santa and I would take them all on.

What?

Are you asking if I am serious?

You really don’t know me well do you.

See You On The Other Side

An alien woke me up at 3:30 Sunday morning and we wrestled until almost 7 AM.

That made Monday rough so when I got home from work I fell on the bed and slept for three hours. It was a wonderful nap and I can’t remember the last time I felt so wide awake.

The only problem with that is I was alert until well after 2 AM.

Had it not been a work night it wouldn’t have mattered but it was and that created a small issue with getting enough shut eye.

But on the up side it provided my night owl self with some great reading and thinking.

I spent more time reading Stephen Ambrose’s book on D-Day and listened to some more of deGrasse Tyson’s book on astrophysics.

Told the kids I am not kidding about pushing hard to continue to educate ourselves and to think.

Knowledge is power and during a time in which stupidity is celebrated this is one of my favorite ways to push back.

Told them to remember there are minutes that seem like years and moments that make seconds seem long.

We push on, we push back, and we move forwards…always.

“Understand me. I’m not like an ordinary world. I have my madness, I live in another dimension and I do not have time for things that have no soul.”
― Charles Bukowski