Christmas is here—fat, dumb, and happy
Circulated on December 21, 2025.
Hop! Jump! Bloviate! Conjunctivate! Decembriate! Circulate!
I always wanted to become a cop so I could steal from drug dealers. Instead I became a drug dealer and stole from cops. That didn’t work out as well. It’s also patently untrue. Just like everything I’ve ever said: Patently untrue. False. A lie. Misinformation. Disinformation. Malinformation. Antidisestablishmentarinformation.
Then I became an elephant. But I don’t like Republicans so I became a donkey. But I like Democrats even less so I became a possum.
Hop! Hop! Hop, hop! I hopped around my palatial domicile, my redheaded Becasue in tow, until I collapsed in exhaustion. Then I schtupped ’er like there was no tomorrow. Then I mooed. Then I crawled to my defrigerator and cooked myself up a nice meatloaf. But the meatload was too high in that meatloaf (a common typo!), so it burned. Then it caught fire and burned my house down, defrigerator and all. Not even the frozen mouse dumplings in my refrigerator were spared. It was a total loss. The insurance company paid me half a penny. Then laughed at me. So I burned down their office. Then I burned down a couple other offices for the fun of it.
This blog entry is my biggest. Not in size, not in word count, but in something else: Something ineffable, something inarticulable. Perhaps just because I drank seventeen gallons of liquid spoo to crank this bad boy out. And six more words and… there!
Merry Christmas, you tinsel-eating harpies! Hop, hop!