December 16, 2009

At some point this weekend you are going to be stuck on the highway behind some hayseed from that region of Egypt that doesn’t even appear on the map. He will be driving 20 miles per hour below the speed limit and hitting his brakes at random intervals trying to decide if he missed the exit for Sheplers. At this point, your misanthropy might crush your red giant heart into a tiny white dwarf, perhaps even a black hole. You might begin pounding on your horn and screaming expletives with such force and conviction that the inside of your windshield is covered with droplets of spittle. All of this will happen while “‘Tis the season to be jolly” chirps out of your radio. The only thing keeping you from going completely postal is that he doesn’t have a bumper sticker that says: “What’s the hurry? You’re already in Austin.” Here’s a little mantra to get you through the Jesus season: Zen. Yes, you do live in a city full of infuriating retards, but you’re one of them too. You’ve been the one blocking traffic at a green light because you’re sexting your boyfriend, futzing with the radio, or trying to retrieve the french fry that fell under your seat. You’re the oblivious son of a bitch who leaves your grocery cart at a 45-degree angle in the aisle at H-E-B while you painstakingly compare the fiber content of Cap’n Crunch vs. Golden Grahams. You also take 37 items to the 20-item express checkout and then ask the clerk to fetch you a case of Newport 100’s and a lighter from the locked display case across the store. Just remember that shit when you’re screaming, “Die! Die! Die!” at the line of preschoolers clutching one another’s shirts as they slowly shuffle through the crosswalk in front of you. That may be the Easter spirit, but it’s definitely not the Christmas spirit. Those little numskulls are just trying to get through their days same as you, only with a few more wet Pull-Ups and a few less temper tantrums. They aren’t personally trying to fuck over your mad dash to Starbucks. Remember: It’s the season of giving. Instead of giving yourself an aneurysm, give yourself the gift of inner peace. Unstress. Let it slide. The holidays are always fraught with unrealistic expectations: Your daughter wants a Twilight Bella Swan Barbie. Mom wants everyone to go to midnight mass. Dad wants to cut down the Christmas tree himself with a chain saw. It’s been the same for centuries. Mary expected little baby Josh to be the messiah. No pressure there. Somehow, without the benefit of medicinal marijuana, Josh managed to find inner peace (well, except for that one time with the moneychangers). His secret? Forgiveness. So, if you want to really get in the spirit of giving for the holidays, start by giving people the benefit of the doubt – even the assholes. Sometimes what seems to be most evil is really just comical … sort of like Rob Zombie … and laughter is pretty good stress relief. If you want to uncork this holiday season, you couldn’t ask for a better way to do it than Master Pancake’s Christmas Show, a Christmas-clip extravaganza featuring commentary and improv caroling by Pancake regulars John Erler and Joe Parsons, with Santa-holic Owen Egerton joining the cast for this special holiday show. You might want to wear some Huggies. This show is so funny you might actually crap trow. How Zen is that?