Now here’s a novel concept. I’m not spiritual or religious in any sense, yet I’m not the slightest bit offended if someone says “Merry Christmas” to me. Say what you want this time of year: “merry Christmas,” “happy holidays,” “bitchin’ Yule,” “have a moderately neato Festivus,” or even “try the quad burger over at Irv’s!” I don’t care.
OK, that last one may come across as a bit … odd.
Image credit: Warner Music Group
And so with that in mind, over the jump is a holiday poem I wrote a few years ago.
Twas the night before Mithras, and in the back of the house
Someone slaughtered a bull after becoming quite soust
The entrails were hung by the back door with care
In hopes that Sol Invictus would soon be there
The house guests were passed out all snug on the floor
Entranced, as usual, by greatest hits of the Doors
Up until that point I was feeling super
Until I was wrested from my NyQuil-induced stupor
I rushed through the house like a wave in a flood
And exclaimed, “Who the hell is going to clean up this blood?”
When to my wonder what should appear
But a winged chariot pulled by a ball of light, see here
The light engraved images deep in the plaster
And I knew in a flash this must be Zoroaster
What trickery was this, was LSD to blame?
In any event, he called his minions by name
“Now Taurus, now Canis, now Jacko and Hydra!”
“On Corvus, on Leo, on Oprah and Spica!”
“To the top of the moon just next to Algol”
“Now dash away, dash away all!”
But alas gravity knows no god
As Zoroaster inevitably crashed onto my sod
“One can only handle weirdness in such doses”
I muttered, as he passed through my drywall via osmosis
He was dressed in a Snuggie, how derivative
As he extracted himself from my walls with an expletive
“Anyway,” he exclaimed, his face quite red
“Explain to these asshats Jim Morrison’s still dead.”
“I come bearing gifts, both merry and gay
But remember that fucking Constantine stole my holiday”
“I mean you no harm, I pledge to be lawful
But all the same, I’ll take this here offal.”
“Giving gifts is my thing. Such is my penchant.
Please send my regards when this guy is sentient.”
And so he exclaimed as left like a dart
“A good night to all, and eschew Wal-Mart!”
Why yes, I did blatantly rip off Clement C. Moore. Thanks for noticing.
Apologies for the long break between posts. I hope to resume SB in some form in 2014. Regardless of what you celebrate – if you celebrate at all – have a damn fine rest of the week. I’ll see you soon.