I love saying Merry Christmas.
Not Happy Holidays.
How much more of a generic troll can you be?
“I would love to express my joy, but I wouldn’t want to mention what that joy is about.”
Despite the people that required the above statement to describe them, I have hope for the world.
Because of my Muslim neighbor.
Awesome dude, great neighbor.
No drugs, no outrageous parties, nothing to avoid talking about when we pass on the street.
And, when I came home today, he yelled over from his yard, “Merry Christmas!”
I had to investigate.
“I had thought the Muslim people didn’t celebrate Christmas?”
“We don’t, but I know you do.”
“Doesn’t it offend you?”
At this, he laughs.
“That is something guilty Christians say. How could saying Merry Christmas offend anyone?”
And I realize he is right.
I have been so twisted around by the politically correct screw heads that I lost sight of basic logic.
Its a greeting of happiness.
How unhappy and deviant is your thought process to either think it would be offensive to someone, or to find it offensive?
And this coming from someone who’s stated purpose, on a regular basis is to piss people off?
This being the end of the year, I would like to give a special shout out to anyone that I have pissed off.
Sit tight, put on your big girl panties and I will piss someone else off and you can laugh at that.
I would apologize, but I have come to realize that I really just don’t care.
It is the day after Christmas now, and I am in a different mood now.
Not one that cares about your feelings, but kind of that “Sitting in the after glow” type of mood.
Lots of family and food.
I come from a family of either mechanics or short order cooks.
So I cooked breakfast for everyone.
And that means pork.
Pork is God’s gift to the Irish.
Not that you find a massive amount of pigs in Ireland. (Its a long story.)
Bacon and sausage, and two flavors of sausage.
Add to that eggs, waffles, hash browns, and mimosa’s.
I am a breakfast God.
It was good.
I have long preferred spending Christmas morning with bacon grease splattered on my shirt.
Psychological byproduct of growing up in a hamburger stand.
As opposed to a Vegan restaurant.
I would died by now if the family biz was a Vegan restaurant.
Without exception, all serious Vegan’s I have ever met appear unhealthy, talk about a coming or just past illness, and for some reason, have dry skin.
Just an observation, and please save yourself the trouble and don’t email me to whine about your great Vegan lifestyle.
Keep lying to yourself.
I have embraced the carnivore within, and he is a happy toothy camper.
So, the long and the short of it is that Christmas is family, food, and remembering the fact that carnivores rock while Vegan’s are slowly killing themselves.
Merry Christmas all.