MERRY CHRISTMAS

This Christmas season, let's not lose sight of the real "reason for the season". I'm speaking, of course, of the celebration of the Winter Solstice by pagan Egyptians.

The first recorded Christmas on December 25th took place in the 4th century, a date coinciding with the birthdate of Mithras, the Persian sun god.

Let's, too, not forget the campaign waged by most Protestants, including the Puritans and Pilgrims, who thought celebrating Christmas was akin to devil worship.

An 1855 New York Times report on Christmas services in the city noted that Baptist and Methodist churches were closed because they "do not accept the day as a holy one."

All in all, I really like Jesus. I think he was a righteous dude. A swell fella. Why? Well, for one reason, He came to earth to die for my sins which, in my book, constitutes a pretty solid favor. Hard to repay that one, though. He also lived like a real gangsta: preaching and rhyming and hanging with ho's and giving mad shout-outs to His Big Poppa and rocking the gold and mirrh and all that bling. Say "Jesus" one time. Now all the people say stomp. GP are you with me?

I said: GP are you with me?

So, on this Christmas Eve eve, remember that Jesus was born, somewhere, at some time, probably in the summer (for all anyone can tell), probably not in December, and remember that when you complain about a War on Christmas you're a fool, and remember that when you correct someone who says "Merry Christmas" you're just a douche, and most of all, remember that we all die and no one really, actually, certifiably knows what happens at that point, so just enjoy yourselves and your family and don't forget that Saint Nicholas was actually saving Turkish girls from being sold into sexual slavery all those many years ago by heaving a bag of gold coins into their father's house, for whatever that's worth.

Which, really, is worth a lot more than your fancy Deisel jeans or your nifty little iPod Nano or whatever else you think is cool but really means absolute shit when you consider that little children are still getting raped by militias in the plains of Africa.

Happy Holidays!!

I IMPLORE YOU, KOBE BRYANT, TO STOP BEING AN ASSHEAD

What can I say? I don't think I've ever hated an athlete more than I hate Kobe Bryant.

It's not like I'm a man who hates very many athletes. Sure, there are the superstars on the rival team who seem to beat your team every year, like Tom Brady, but it's very hard to actually hate those athletes. In the case of Brady, I loathe him, yes, but I also respect him. If I were to see him at the mall, for instance, I'd be more inclined to point at him, wag my finger, grin, shake my head, and say, "You rascal, you. You rascal!"

In the case of Kobe Bryant, whom I hate, I'd be more likely to scream, "OMIGOD! Grab your wives! He'll rape them all, the man will RAPE ALL OF YOUR WOMEN!" while running away.

I don't really have one particular reason for why I hate Kobe. Here's an idea, though:

I love women. Not just "love em" love em, but really love them. They are all my Christian sisters. When a man rapes one of them, he has broken a bond with them, with God, and with me.

Here's another idea:

I hate his stupid face. Have you ever noticed that Kobe Bryant looks like Kobe Bryant? He's got a real Kobe Bryantish sort of face, which I just hate, because I hate Kobe Bryant. Sends shivers up my spine.

And finally, here's something particular I hate about Kobe Bryant that, I believe, neatly sums up what I hate Kobe Bryant in general:



Don't hit yourself in your chest with a fist. I swear to God. I will hunt you down and kill you.

You are not Jeffrey Wright in Shaft. Though, of course, I most certainly wish you were. That way, you would have had a knife in your hand and would be dead by now.

I hate you, Kobe Bryant. I hate your Kobe Bryant face. Stay away from my asshole, and from women that are not your wife. Don't hit yourself in the chest with your fist. This isn't 1999. You're not Michael Jordan. You're an asshead. You do not deserve anything you've ever acheived in life. You should shrivel and shrink like a toad and moan in misery the rest of your life.

And wipe that stupid-looking Kobe-look off your stupid Kobe-face.

GOOD LORD

This whole article is just, like, really painful deja vu. I'm so glad that sort of life is behind me.

Ugh!

NOT CARING

Is not the same as not trying.


The Strolling Bones, pictured above, are now more relevant than the band they ape, The Rolling Stones.

DEVIL MUSIC!

The most shocking thing about this report is not that Iran's president has banned Western music, but that Iranian radio stations had been playing mostly George Michael, The Eagles, and Kenny G.

In a way, it's sort of a good move.