Christmas Ecard with text: Christmas is a debt-inducing celebration of commodity culture wrapped inside a guilt trip, which means I won't talk to you if you don't get me a present.

16 Dec 2009

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I was in love once. It was an earth-shattering experience, a state of instant infatuation. As soon as I tasted that vanilla bean ice-cream cone I fell head over heals. Then, in that moment of ecstasy, some really annoying girl came up and asked for a taste. This is where the story gets bad. , , Turns out, she liked vanilla bean ice-cream too. You know what she does? She sits down right next to me and starts to take turns eating my ice-cream (!) And smiling at me in a simpering sort of way (!) Well, long story short, I only got to eat half of that ice-cream cone. But it was love that I felt for that ice-cream, I am sure of it. Makes me sad to remember, actually., , Sigh. That's love for you, I guess. , ,

Valentines

guilty

'Love makes us great! Example: if Lance Armstrong hadn't been so in love with fame and money he wouldn't have frauded his way to a 100+ million dollar fortune. See? That's not logic, that's romance! Like Lance I'm a wildly romantic person too, though it's tempered with a sensible streak of feminism so when on a date I let the chick buy my meal. I also haven't cried on Oprah yet but I'll get to that.'

Love

Christmas Ecard with text: So some Italians nailed a pacifist, anti-materialist Jewish guy to a few planks and now we celebrate his birthday with a shopping spree. And while this is not considered tactless, it is considered tactless to mention it.

a christmas exegesis

On Wednesdays I like to post an older card but occasionally I'll look at my calendar and notice that everyone has skipped a day by accident. On Thursdays I like to lurk behind doors and hiss at passers by. It's not very Christmassy but, like everybody else, irrational traditions have always played an important part in my life.

Christmas

Valentines Ecard with text: 'St Valentines Day can be one of only two things: rich fat-cat industrialists with warehouses full of Valentines Day stuff to fob off onto unsuspecting poor folk, or two: love. Can you decide which because I can't think about it without twitching.'

industrialist fat cats

I'd protest this holiday. And on the burning barricades I'd chant at police and hurl Molotovs. And then? I'd fall beneath the bejeweled jackboots of St. Valentines Day thugs, wielding their guilt trips and demanding their chocolate boxes and heart-shaped cards. So if anyone needs me I'll be at the florists. Muttering to myself.

Valentines

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