Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Oh Holy Fuck
Well, here it is. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and I woke up this morning and I thought these very words:
Fuck-a-fuck-a-roni. I'm fucked just like a pony.
Is it okay to say that?
Fuck yes. It's my blog.
What have I been doing the last few weeks? Huh? Can you tell me? Sashaying around and making fucking soup and going to Goodwill and acting like the fucking holy wise men are going to show up at my door with their frankincense, their myrrh, some good ol' Traditional Mr. Moon's mother's Christmas Eve Chicken Salad and maybe a ham and a Jello cake and a relish tray and a pot of black-eyed peas and clean sheets that they'll put on all the spare beds and oh yes, maybe they'll also fix the electricity under the house so that the guest room will have ELECTRICITY and they'll figure out all this present stuff and tidy up the house and make everything SHINY AND BRIGHT AND HOLY AND LOVELY AND FIT FOR A FINE FUCKING FAMILY CELEBRATION????!!!!
HUH? DID I?
I must have thought that because surely, there is no other option at this point and I AM FREAKING OUT BECAUSE THERE ARE NO MAGICAL WISE MEN, NO THERE ARE NOT AND I AM FUCKED!
What? I'm sorry. Was I yelling?
FUCK YES I'M YELLING!
Mary trudged all the way to Bethlehem and had a baby and put it in a manger and that was that. Done. Unless she got up from her pile of hay, the birth juices still upon her and built an oven, slaughtered a goat and roasted it for the Christmas dinner. Which she did not. Did she have any idea when she had that baby and put it in a manger (Come on- why would anyone put their baby in a manger?) that she had just created the most stressful time of the year for millions and millions of people throughout the rest of known eternity? Did she?
Poor Mary. Having to receive visitors there in the barn. Stable. Whatever. Funky-smelling shepherds who stood there and goggled at the baby, their crooks in the hands, their sheep wandering the hillsides without them, baahing and bleating, all alone.
"What? You've never seen a baby before?" she probably asked, trying not to show her titties to the intrusive shepherds as she nursed the Holy Infant. "Joseph, will you please get these damn shepherds out of here? I'm trying to feed the baby and deal with the afterbirth. And could you find me some Ibuprofen? I just gave birth to a baby through a virgin vagina and let me tell you something- THAT WAS NOT EASY!"
What was the point of the angel of the Lord appearing to shepherds, abiding in the fields? What was the fucking point of that? I'm sure a talented preacher or priest could come up with some great story but I don't get it. Just like that article I read in the paper this morning where the Christian guy talked about how we certainly CAN shop and eat and do all the crazy Christmas crap as long as we do it in a spirit of reverence. Or something like that.
He also recommended that you go into a church by yourself and check out the Giant Jesus hanging on the cross and study the pain in his face to remember the spirit of compassion.
And then go on to Walmart, I guess, and buy some more junk from China but it'll be okay because you have the spirit of compassion. And reverence.
Sure. Let's celebrate the birth of the baby by studying the bloody crucifixion of the grown man.
This all makes as much sense to me as some dudes from the east bringing frankincense and myrrh to a newborn. Diapers would have made more sense. A block of fucking cheese would have made more sense. A fruitcake, a Jello cake. A ham.
Oh wait. The Holy Family was Jewish. They didn't eat the pig.
Well, whatever. I am rambling. I have to get off my ass and scramble and scratch and make a Christmas. Or at least try.
Well, here we go. I've drunk a half a pot of coffee, my shoulders feel like they're going to break off from the rest of my body, and it's the day before Christmas Eve.
And that picture up there? It has nothing to do with Christmas. But I like it and it's far more festive than a picture of the stalagmites of chicken guano I have going on out there in the coop which is what I could have posted.
Consider yourself lucky.
I didn't just give birth to a baby through a virgin vagina with no more midwife than a man who believed his teen-aged wife was giving birth to a baby through a virgin vagina.
And I guess I'll just carry this right on out to its logical and completely blasphemous conclusion:
THAT was a holy fuck.
Amen and Merry Christmas from the Church of the Batshit Crazy where we do not believe in hell, thank God, because if we did, we'd have to go there.