Thanksgiving and Parades

Thanksgiving is upon us. There is turkey to consume. Sofas to be lounged upon. Football to be watched.

But the whole works gets rolling with the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade.

I used to not really watch it much back in my youth. An endless, well, parade, of “famous” (I use that term loosely) people on floats, marching bands of various varieties, and of course those enormous balloons.

It’s kind of like watching Live PD… it’s not television unless dramatic shit goes down. You know people are waiting for some kind of Hindenburgian hellscape to unfold.

Of course, I’m glued to the screen waiting for Santa to appear. For this is the true moment when the floodgates of Christmas and all its glory has been opened. For it is now that we may bask and wallow in the unbridled commercialism that we all really know Christmas is really about.

Sure, the ads have been sneaking up on us for a few weeks now, but now the whole shithouse is going up in flames, man.

And it won’t end until fucking February.

Put that in your cranberry sauce and inhale it.

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2017 Christmas Alert!!

Hell yeah! The 2017 Christmas television commercials are upon us…

…Like the vomit from uncle who downed the whole fucking bowl of bright green Christmas punch.

But I digress. I just witnessed Disney and its Land of supreme happiness slap us across the face with an urgent plea to make the family all happy. Start booking that trip for the hollydaze! Little Billy will be crushed like so much ice in my Mai Tai if you don’t take him this year.

That’s what they’re banking on.

Fuck, October just started and here we are. All jolly.

I dunno, maybe we deserve it.

Or something.

Get in the spirit. NOW!

The North Pole…

…is apparently still there, if the Hallmark Channel has anything to do with it.

You know, as a professional television watcher and TV critic extraordinaire, I really should be on top of this shit, you know? Fuck, I’ve been getting all “Christmas in July” on QVC where I got emotional watching them peddle green rocks that are apparently very valuable and have been “touched by the Irish.”

Fucking “Touched by the Irish!!”

That’s some apparently very serious shit and warrants a high price tag. I need to come up with something like that to label whatever I sell.

But I digress (if you want digression, stay tuned, I’ll get all passive digressive sometime soon)…

I’m a die-hard Xmas junkie, so stopping off on the Hallmark Channel in a surfing session to enjoy a few minutes of “Every Christmas Has A Story” is something I covet deeply.

Anyway, I hate the summer, so seeing people frolic in fake winter scenes (you know this shit was shot in the middle of summer) makes me happy.

Where’s my goddam hot chocolate?

It’s New Years 2017, and there’s still Xmas leftovers!

Man, you gotta hand it to the Hallmark Network.

It’s fucking 2017, and there’s still some Christmas Shit floating over the cablewaves.

“Love Always, Santa.” “My Christmas Love.”

Crap like this always involves widowers, jilted lovers, single moms and dads, and the occasional abused pet.

Fuck, what a dream job — writing scripts for this swill.

Xmas? WTF?

It’s fucking October Duracell.

Fuck you.

No, seriously.

A fucking Christmas commercial? On fucking Sunday, October 23, 2016?

Are you fucking high? I don’t care if there’s some fucking charity thinly veiled in the goddam thing. Fuck the fucking fuck off.

Fuck this shit.

Make Xmas 365 already. Jesus H. Fucking Christ.

Shit.

That ruined my fucking month. I haven’t even put up some fucking Halloween decorations yet.

I’m gonna have a fucking coronary.

It’s January

Hey Hyundai, it’s fucking January 15th, 2016.

I was sick of that idiotic “Holly Days” commercial the first time I saw it sometime in fucking November, (or was it October?).

You know the one: A bunch of dumbass beardy hipster assholes riding around town in a Hyundai, happily singing along with some shitty Christmas jingle (maybe it’s real song, who knows, but it sucks nonetheless). They look jolly. Deciduous trees in the background fully leaved (probably shot in July). Some white beardo holding a sprig of mistletoe over some his presumed female partner, and giving her a peck.

They are happy in their Hyundai. You should buy one. Now. And be happy too.

Fuck that shit. And fuck Hyundai for continuing to run this swill well into January.

Oh, and fuck that inane song.