The birth of a king is always well regarded amongst those driven to holiday creation. The tree sways under the burden of another ornament and your strange uncle unabashedly treats his body like a playground amid the falling pine needles. Have you eaten too much? Or had a dozen too many booze drinks? Or slammed a square of fudge too many? You mustn't let your mind stray away from the truth: Nothing is wrong as you slide into another holiday delirium. We've been raised on replicas and faith in winding roads, according to David Berman (a Jew). Though there may be a disconnect with the religious, just hold joyous commune with your deep fried Legos and sweeten your eggnog to the point of insanity. Lovingly massive, our competive capital is losing its virginity in a department store while toddlers scream amidst a wailing drunk Santa Claus with scissors clutching. We're moving en masse through fields of white with car insurance policies gleaming and problematic tendencies tucked deep within our red velvet sacks. Those who are good keep their lips tucked in and we are the chosen. We've arrived at the perfect gift of eternal satisfaction and Peruvian switchblades imported for proprietary free trade agreement with the militants. Roads winding, replicas trembling like lost wastrels swept up in the arms of vagrants, we've all got our plastic evergreen smiles on and itchy boas entwine everything we've made up. Crumbling effigies of obese bringers of gifts swing out over the gallows of the suburban mall to the cheer of the over stimulated teenagers. They writhe on the floor to pounding dance beats, awash in Ritalin and fixative. Groupies leave the club in order to powder their noses with charming albums. Musical balladry takes on a hue of cinnamon and ivy. Money leaves every hand whilst a sweet smile graces Lil Bennie Franklin's face. A deafening jingle echoes across the chambered halls of Commercial Embrace. We all love one another. Let another year ring itself in while we bring ourselves out for another fleecing.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Ornament of Our Lives Outlives What Deprives. Holiday Edition.
The birth of a king is always well regarded amongst those driven to holiday creation. The tree sways under the burden of another ornament and your strange uncle unabashedly treats his body like a playground amid the falling pine needles. Have you eaten too much? Or had a dozen too many booze drinks? Or slammed a square of fudge too many? You mustn't let your mind stray away from the truth: Nothing is wrong as you slide into another holiday delirium. We've been raised on replicas and faith in winding roads, according to David Berman (a Jew). Though there may be a disconnect with the religious, just hold joyous commune with your deep fried Legos and sweeten your eggnog to the point of insanity. Lovingly massive, our competive capital is losing its virginity in a department store while toddlers scream amidst a wailing drunk Santa Claus with scissors clutching. We're moving en masse through fields of white with car insurance policies gleaming and problematic tendencies tucked deep within our red velvet sacks. Those who are good keep their lips tucked in and we are the chosen. We've arrived at the perfect gift of eternal satisfaction and Peruvian switchblades imported for proprietary free trade agreement with the militants. Roads winding, replicas trembling like lost wastrels swept up in the arms of vagrants, we've all got our plastic evergreen smiles on and itchy boas entwine everything we've made up. Crumbling effigies of obese bringers of gifts swing out over the gallows of the suburban mall to the cheer of the over stimulated teenagers. They writhe on the floor to pounding dance beats, awash in Ritalin and fixative. Groupies leave the club in order to powder their noses with charming albums. Musical balladry takes on a hue of cinnamon and ivy. Money leaves every hand whilst a sweet smile graces Lil Bennie Franklin's face. A deafening jingle echoes across the chambered halls of Commercial Embrace. We all love one another. Let another year ring itself in while we bring ourselves out for another fleecing.
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