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In Which I Make Reference To The Recent Scarcity Of Me.

by Max Burbank on 12/30/2008, 1:38 pm

Gentle reader, you may have noticed I have been absent more than present recently. In fact, I think I may have begun my last ‘Blog entry’ with similar words, and I’d know if I could be bothered to look it up, which I can’t, though it would be easy as ‘pie’, which ought to give you some idea of how much I ‘care’.

If memory serves, the last time I wrote this sort of introduction, I blamed the decline of my fecundity on ‘difficult’ events that had taken place in my ‘personal life’ that were none of your ‘business’. Since that time several more ‘events’ of a difficult nature have take place that have made me nostalgic for previous unpleasantness, have indeed lent to those previous unpleasantnesses the ruddy glow sometimes associated with the cheeks of happy Sunday School Children. This second set of events are even more none of your business than the first set. For those of you entertaining the notion you know what I am talking about, let me say you are almost certainly misinformed, owing to both your inherent, amiable gullibility, and the wealth of misinformation regarding my circumstances as easily plucked from the internet as village idiots pluck spoiled fruit from beneath trees. Unless you are thinking of reports involving a certain species of Japanese giant salamander and damage to my left testicle, which are for the most part true, except it was my pituitary gland, damage to which turns out to be more crippling, but less funny.

In any case. I have returned. For now. So let me tell you what I have ‘learned’ from my ‘holiday season’ thus far.

1.) Instances in which I have run out of Harvey’s Bristol Crème during the last calendar year were grave errors and will not be repeated. Previous statements that I did not ‘need’ Harvey’s Bristol Crème, I just ‘liked it very much’ have been proved through field research to be untrue. There are people who will tell you that Harvey’s Bristol Crème is not a scientifically recognized medicine, that it is in fact a ‘fag drink’, to which I’ll just say this: I am acquainted through my church with any number of perfectly respectable homosexuals who could drink you under the table and remain sober enough to remove one of your kidneys for later sale on eBay without killing you. The next time you wake up in a strange hotel bathtub full of ice, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

2.) Fifteen turns out to be NOT too many for my holiday table, unless by ‘too many’ you use measurements that do not feature my climbing atop the table stripped to my underwear and sobbing “Who, who, who ARE all you people?” For your information, things like that may happen at any meal, just ask my children, and the mashed potatoes remain perfectly sanitary and edible unless you’re squeamish in which case you should never have come to my house in the first place.

3.) If anyone tells you they saw ‘Mommy’ ‘kissing’ ‘Santa Claus’, they are just being cute. That was not ‘Mommy’, nor was the person in the red suit ‘Santa Claus’, and the act they were committing cannot be called ‘kissing’ except in the loosest possible terms. Also there were more than two of them, perhaps as many as six, and one of them was either multiply handicapped and equipped with a great deal of assisting technology, or was a robot, or perhaps some sort of ‘Borg’.

4.) Here’s what you tell the police after you answer the door: “I am unable to recall the events of the last forty-eight to seventy-two hours of my life.” THEN ask for a lawyer. Say that first, not after, do not submit to any tests that measure competence or sobriety and DON’T give them any urine because chances are they haven’t asked for it yet and you are only making things worse. I can write this for you on a card if you don’t think you can remember it. In fact, I believe I have several already printed.

5.) On Christmas Eve, be very, very, very, sure of what the sound that awoke you is before discharging any firearms. Yes, most likely it is an intruder with criminal intent, and yes, you are certainly covered by the second amendment in most states. Nonetheless, ‘safe’ is always better than ‘sorry’. The sound may have been Reindeer alighting on your roof, or Santa himself, or even a neighbor dressed as Santa with whom you had made plans earlier in the evening to create a ‘special memory’ for your children, hours and hours earlier when there was a great deal more Harvey’s Bristol Crème left than there is now.

6.) Remember, no matter how difficult and complicated your life has become, the holidays have their own, special magic that can overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles when you least expect it. This has always been my excuse, and it’s held up in court.

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