Friday, December 24, 2010

Twas the Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, except that one fucking mouse.
No stockings were hung, and the tree was quite bare,
I downed a few beers, and then sat there and stared.

I flipped through the channels as they yelled about Jesus,
They advertised all of the gifts that would please us.
Some nonsense about wise men seducing a baby,
While his mother kept swearing she was a pure, honest lady.


Where had I gone wrong? This was great as a child.
I ripped open presents.  I screamed.  I was wild.
Now here I sit with my head crammed with thoughts,
And to act on any one of them, well...I ought not.

Saturday, December 4, 2010

Dear People Named Katrina...Sorry About That

This past week marked the end of one the major meteorologic time periods of our year in the United States: hurricane season.

Hurricane Katrina as seen from not the Gulf Coast.
From June 1st to November 30th every year, coastal inhabitants and island dwellers all over the United States, Caribbean, and Central American quake in their boots, sandals, or merely in the rough, durable skin on the bottoms of their feet, due to the knowledge that God is watching them with an eye that is capable of ripping their face off with sustained 150 mph winds and then cleansing it with rain that I assume feels like being shot at from a barrage of wet BB guns.

Severe weather and natural disasters have always fascinated me.  How conditions can come together to create a swirling funnel of tornadic death clouds and how the Earth's crust can shift in a way that thrusts fiery orange magma out of the ground truly wrinkles my impressive brain.  I prefer that no one is hurt when these things occur, but they fascinate me nonetheless.

The fact that things like hurricanes do cause damage to the well-being of the human population, however, is what really purples my nurples.  Furthermore, the way we document the calamity is downright irresponsible.