DEC. 3, 2007

Fasten that sprig of Mistletoe to your belt buckle, the season is upon us. For the next few weeks your schmaltz meter will be pegged hard into the red. Just give in. You’re totally outnumbered. Even that weird-assed pagan/druid/wiccan/communist/anarchist co-worker who won’t spell “women” without replacing the “e” with a “y” is wearing a Bobbie Brooks Christmas sweater with a flashing Rudolph nose. Yes, she’s wearing it with a withering look of sarcasm, but after a few hours of walking around in that fluffy ode to Christmas magic her smirk will melt away and she’ll bear an amazing resemblance to your third-grade teacher. You can’t buy regression therapy like that. Well, actually you can, but it’s going to cost you about $7.99 off the rack at Goodwill. If you’re a more progressive type you’ll probably want to start drinking heavily about now. A healthy buzz can really take the edge off all the bright lights, clangy carols, and greed-crazed, obnoxious children – especially if they’re your own. If you’re smart, you’ll replace phrases like “for the next two weeks I’ll be ramping up my alcohol dependency” with “during the holiday season I try to maintain a healthy amount of good cheer.” It won’t do you much good as a preamble to your breathalyzer test but it will help you explain how you passed out in your boss’ bathtub. Extra points if you happen to have a pair of furry antlers strapped to your head. In fact, ridiculous holiday attire/accessories can provide crucial cover for whatever depraved activities you might normally enjoy under the cloak of privacy. Dying of auto-erotic asphyxiation in a pair of skinny jeans and a black Anthrax tee shirt is just … really sad, but if you punch out the same way wearing a big, red Santa suit, people will assume you got overly adventurous from one too many toddies – either that or the elves ditched you when things got too freaky. The point is that you can’t go wrong with holiday excess because it’s all so insanely wrong to begin with. If the tiny little 8 pound, 6 ounce baby Jesus could have known that someday his birth would be used as an excuse to pimp Guitar Hero III, he would have strangled himself with his umbilical cord – maybe even while masturbating in a red Santa suit. After all, he’s God, and God can make bizarre shit like that happen. If you’re into bizarre shit, you will probably want to check out Checking It Twice a compendium of Christmassy comedic sketches from the talented yet tainted minds of the St. Idiot Collective. The show runs this Thursday, Friday, and Saturday at the Hideout and all proceeds benefit Lifeworks, a shelter for homeless children. Admission is $6, which isn’t a lot to pay for some real holiday cheer.