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Merry Christmas
I had so wanted to tell a classic Christmas tale. Have so wanted to do so. The sponsors love it. Budweiser. Microsoft. Ebay, Amazon, Nasdaq. Reap the bounty.

I wanted my tale to center around the only thing of which I am a veritable god of knowledge: dysfunctionality with aplomb.

It was going to be an improbable tale and bittersweet, with no happy ending but lots of drugs and sex and danger and death thrown in to keep them sitting in their seats through the commercial breaks.

Victoriassecret.com, Sex.com, Eatmeraw.com.

And then back to the story two white idealists move to a black ghetto where murder has become a nickname and music is produced so one can dance to the insanity and the two white folk think they can do the My Fair Lady on one of the worst but they wrong for that, and he let them know it by blatant normal teenage disregard, only the consequences of his disregard may be more dire (but only in the eyes of those that think so) but My Fair Lady says--I can't be what I can't be. And for that we can say My Fair Lady knows hisself.

Geographically incorrect snow falls encrusting the lashes of adoring wide eyed chirren as a marbelized Santa steps behind the curtain and removes his beard.

They are ready to cast him out into the abyss of indifference, a street paved with so many more like him, and he comes home early so to prove he is not completely against their caring. But his arrival may be too late, and his spirit too strong.

He will be what he wants to be, and in that the three become one.

Merry Christmas and Happiness and let's do it again tomorrow.
- jimlouis 12-26-2000 2:38 am [link] [4 comments]