what flavor do you like your cock?

Two major points of annoyance for me this week. First, the Grammy nominations were announced, and as usual, they're an affront to anyone who actually listens to music. The fact that a band like Hoobastank (!) can garner three nods is... well, it very well may be the sign Uncle Jerry has been looking for, the one that brings the four "angry white men" riding in on horseback. On top of the Stank, the academy has told us that these other artists are of artistic merit (see: sold a shit ton of records) Ahem! The Black Eyed Peas, Usher, John Mayer, Maroon 5, Evanescence, Britney Spears, U2, and Nickelback. If that list doesn't make you want to throw up right now, then seek help. I suggest you go here: http://www.youhavebadtasteinmusic.com/ and follow steps one through three right away, if you wish to save yourself.

Now I have to make it over to the goddman post office in order to get my passport. I called them this morning to find out if they had a photo service (so that I wouldn't have to go somewhere else to get those little passport photos taken) and the woman I was talking to, towards the end of our conversation, and let me just stress towards, decided that she was through talking to me and hung up. Hung up! Could it be because they were extemely busy at the post office? No, because they don't have a phone line that goes directly to a location, only a 1-800 number for informational purposes. Could it be that she had other, more pressing matters to attend to right then and there? Perhaps, but I've never seen any postal employee concerned with actually helping a customer before. So what happened? Oh, wait, wait, I think I know. She was a bitch! Just another in the long line of stupid bitches that work for the government. I guess when you have a bitch as stupid as G.W., it takes a lot of work for the common folk to keep up. Now that I think about it, hanging up on me was pretty weak. She should have yelled something like, "put your cock in a blender, you ass raping cat fucker!" Now that would have been what I like to call customer service... Dubya style.

fuck christmas

I'd really like to write something, but I'm too goddamn depressed. If I don't take some drugs soon, I'll kill myself. Actually, that reminds me of a statement made by Forbes magazine senior editor Elizabeth MacDonald, who, while appearing recently on Bill O'Reilly's show, said this: "And you have got to wonder why people become depressed alcoholics around the season, because the meaning is sucked out of it." She was referring to a decision by certain Macy's and Bloomingdale's department stores to replace their "Merry Christmas" greetings with some more inclusive declarations of holiday spirit, such as "Season's Greetings" and "Happy Holidays." Now I don't wish to comment on the choice that department stores make concerning decorations, because I could care less. I'd just like to say, as someone who consistently gets depressed around this time, that the supposed meaning of Christmas has nothing, and I mean nothing to do with it. It is important to note that I do believe in God, and I think Christians have every right to celebrate the birth of Christ. However, let's not forget that Christ's birthday is not December 25th and the holiday did not come about as a celebration of such a birthday. The fact is, the "meaning of Christmas" has simply been co-opted by Christians from Pagan origins, (the Winter Solstice in Rome, the feast of the Son of Isis in ancient Babylon) thereby contributing to it's destruction. I mean, if Pope Julius I can put the "Christ-Mass" in the middle of well established Pagan festivities, why can't the consumer whores and the corporations that pimp them out place their worship of material goods and money in the same place? It's just another way of making a new religion go down easier. (I learned it from watching you, Dad!)

Anyway, I've gotten off the subject here. While I can't speak for anyone but myself, I can tell you that depression is pretty natural around the time of year that the media is so focused on the ideal loving family, the ideal loving couple, and the ideal group of loving friends gathered around the ideal fireplace in the ideal cabin in the woods exchanging the ideal bunch of gifts. The depression is natural, that is, if you don't conform to that idealized version of humanity. Of course, this really isn't the fault of the media, but rather my fault for buying into the idea that I am one of the few that doesn't live a "perfect" life. My own insecurities have fueled my loneliness; my self-loathing has led to the perception of being unloved. At this time of year, those feelings are just enhanced by what I see all around me. As I think back on it, I've never been very happy on Christmas day. I can remember coming downstairs to a smiling family, a well decorated (fake) tree, and an amazing bounty of gifts that would make most children jump for joy. But what am I doing in all those holiday videos? Sitting, balled up on the floor with a sour look on my face, just waiting for the whole thing to be over and done with. I couldn't drink myself into a stupor/smoke myself into oblivion/pop pills or snort coke in order to achieve a false sense of joy back then, but I sure can do it now, and I do. All this, and I don't even notice the difference when a sign says "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas."