A Very Nihilistic Kweznuz - Day 4

The festival of seasonal torment continues!

It's cold out there, kiddies. To be more specific, it's cold where I live, in the impossibly flat state of Kansas. The trees are bare, the grass is dead, and the sky is grey.

Have you ever stared at a bare tree in the midst of winter and noted how closely it resembles a bundle of veins? Tooling around the countryside in January, one can look around and imagine themselves enmeshed in the endless vascular system of some unfathomably massive entity.

It's enough to make a person feel truly insignificant, which is a good thing, if you ask me. Too many people have an unearned sense of self-importance, these days. Being reminded of how little we really matter in the grand scheme of things is healthy.

Christmas is a perfect example of this. Parents spend so much time and money on their children, and what do the little rugrats take away from this? Material goods. This needs to be balanced out.
One of those shiny wrapped boxes your kids tear open with reckless abandon needs to be empty. They need to open it up, expecting their new favorite toy, and instead be confronted with nothing.

Let the confusion transform into disappointment. Let them contemplate the empty box. Their thoughts will turn to the macabre. To maintain this malaise, take your child outside in the cold, cold night and have them stare up into the clear sky. Gradually the twinkling stars will fade from their vision, until nothing remains but the endless void.

Don't break this trance until the child begins to silently weep, slowly coming to terms with their own imminent mortality. Then take them inside and sing a few rousing Christmas carols by the inviting warmth of the fireplace. That cherubic smile will soon return to your child's face, and things will return to normal by the time you reach the third verse of "O Christmas Tree".

But your child will carry the memory of this night with him (or her) for the rest of his (or her) life. It's an important lesson to learn, and the earlier one learns it, the better. If you're over 25 and you still haven't felt the sweet embrace of the abyss on a dark winter night, then your parents raised you wrong.

Or maybe I just have a fucked up family. That's also possible.

Either way, it's Christmas Eve, and that means... absolutely nothing to my one Jewish friend. But I haven't spoken with him since 2003. For all I know, he died in the throes of a drug-fueled nightmare in some burned-out crack house years ago.

Be that as it may, let me take this time to wish my (probably dead) pal Abe Grantstein a Happy Hanukkah. You will be missed.

On a lighter note, if you're one of the five people who read last year's holiday coverage on this very blog, you may be familiar with my affection for the cult classic Silent Night, Deadly Night.

I don't want to repeat myself here (although I often do), but I will always hold this film dear because I believe it manages to transcend the much-maligned "slasher film" sub-genre, succeeding where so many similar films of its ilk fail. Silent Night, Deadly Night actually has something to say, and there's so much to it beyond the simple shock value of watching a man dressed up as Santa Claus go on a holiday killing spree.

This film was unfairly condemned upon its initial release by many critics and moral crusaders who saw it as nothing more than a tasteless excuse to subvert the wholesome iconography of the Christmas season in order to make a quick buck. Granted, the film has all the trappings people expect from the genre, but it also has something on its mind.

If you haven't seen Silent Night, Deadly Night, then give it a chance during your vacation. The DVD is cheap, and it's also on Netflix. Watch it, and be amazed.

To give you a taste, here's the original trailer...



Two days ago, somebody left a comment on a previous entry, wondering when the next installment of The Podcast Of Lies would arrive. As per usual, this comment was anonymous, so I have no idea who left it. Sometimes I wonder if every comment left on my blog is from one lonely person who suffers from dissociative identity disorder.

We may never know.

Regardless, I have good news for you, anonymous stranger! Just in time for Christmas, I give you episode 14 of the longest-running podcast related to this blog, entitled The Meat-Swelling Pasta Maker Miracle! It's ten minutes and six seconds of non-denominational hilarity, and unlike all of your other presents, this one is absolutely free.

I'm like Santa Claus over here, giving you all the gift of laughter. Which, as we all know, is a priceless gift, indeed.

So pour yourself a glass of disgusting egg nog, light some scented candles, kick up your feet, and enjoy the majesty of this most important of holiday gifts.

Come back tomorrow for the conclusion to this charade!