I’m hoping this Christmas tops last year’s. Thanks to Covid, we weren’t allowed to travel anywhere in 2020 and couldn’t get our presents from family and friends. My God, did they get off easy! I haven’t forgotten, though. I sent out the word to my gift-giving circles, informing them that they’re still on the hook for last year. Two gifts from each person should do it, I’m thinking. Maybe that’ll be enough to make up for missing the whole Christmas thing last season: the excuse to get fatter eating cookies and pies; the family arguments at the dinner table; pretending to like a gift you know you’ll never use or wear. I’m a little concerned about the upcoming holidays, so I figured I’d throw out some thoughts in hopes of getting you concerned, too. No one likes to go through misery alone.
The good thing about living in Los Angeles is that, even with disruptions at the ports, I expect I’ll be able to stroll down to Long Beach, swim out to the bottled-up container ships, and locate my Christmas gifts. I’ve got a feeling lots of people this holiday season will be getting boxes with IOUs in them. The politicians must be sweating. Nothing pisses off a mother more than not being able to get that toy her child’s been badgering her for, for the past eight months. She may be left telling her kid, “I’m sorry, you just weren’t good enough this year.”
On top of that, inflation’s really creeping up. You’ll get gouged and goosed hard buying Christmas Day goose this year. Food prices are soaring higher than a red-nosed reindeer. The other day, I didn’t have enough bread to buy…well, bread. I’ll need a lot of cabbage to purchase…well, cabbage. I meant to make some pies, but didn’t have enough dough to purchase any–you guessed it–dough. Mom always makes a bunch of pies over the holidays. This year, we might each get one cupcake instead. I don’t even want to know how much the Figgie Pudding has gone up. We may find ourselves choosing between eggnog and booze this year, and I think we know who wins. Nothing takes the edge off high prices like a bottle of Jack Daniels.
I’m worried about the climate changers, too. Lately, they’ve been getting more fanatical. Don’t trust those Scrooges! They may say you can’t put lights on your house unless they’re energy-efficient. If they’re feeling generous, they might let you light up your tree for as much as an hour a day! No fires in the fireplace, though, because too much CO2 would spew into the crispy air. Maybe they’ll even arrest Santa for putting that dirty coal in our stockings (hey, greenies, it’s better than nuclear waste!). The bearded man better be using EV reindeers this year. Elon might just help him out with that.
If you’re planning on driving somewhere for the holidays, you’re in for some severe sticker shock. In California, gas is close to five dollars a gallon, surpassing the cost of a chestnut praline latte. Please, take out a line of credit before your journey. You may find yourself apologizing to family members when you reach your destination: “I’m so sorry, we had to hock your presents to fill the tank! What I’m saying is, we have no gifts to bring, a-rumpa-pum-pum!” Heating your home this winter won’t be a day at the beach, either. It’ll most likely cost an extra $1,000! You may just have to choose between no presents for the kids and the kids freezing to death–which would kill two birds with one stone, actually, now that I think of it!
Another concern is the vaccine mandates. Pilots have gone on strike because of that one, which has sent the airlines into chaos. People are getting stuck in airports for days and days, and even after they reach their destinations, some stranders are declaring bankruptcy from buying food and drinks at airport terminal prices! Airports are always crazy during the holidays, but throw in another pilot strike and staffing shortages, and you’re looking at Armageddon. Plus, who knows: maybe if too many pilots walk out, they’ll replace them with someone like Bruno, the airport janitor. On top of that, there’s weather to contend with. They’re expecting a snowy winter. That’s fun for the ol’ Christmas spirit, but not when you’re curled up in a ball on the filthy floor of Terminal Six, listening to canceled flights over the PA. Even if you’re lucky enough to get on a plane, you’ll have to deal with the unruly passengers who’ve been coming out of the woodwork lately. One recently punched a poor flight attendant in the face and broke her nose! Maybe he didn’t get his bag of peanuts. A lot of crazies out there, and the holidays are their full moon.
But look at me, trying to ruin your Christmas. I feel like the Grinch! So much for spreading holiday cheer. At least I never said “humbug.” You know what? Don’t listen to me. Forget everything I just said. I don’t know what came over me. Maybe I’m just having a bad hair day. Forgive me. It’s going to be a great Christmas! There’ll be family, friends, toys, pies, and all that good stuff. It’s time to get fat and drunk. We deserve that after pushing through this pandemic, don’t we?