Things for which I'm Grateful as 2015 Draws to a Close

***In no particular order and by no means complete***

• The love of family and friends (a no-brainer, right?)
• Relatively good health (an even less-brainer)
• Yuengling ('nuff said)
• Having known the love of a good woman (some men never find it; I’ve been blessed to have found it several times)
• Wawa (up yours, 7-Eleven!)
• Podcasts (they help keep me informed, provide endless hours of entertainment and expose me to ideas and points of view beyond my own)
• The Benjamin Franklin Bridge (my “happy place”)
• My job (no job is perfect but what a blessing it is to have a job that I love and a place to go each morning)
• Music (feeds my soul and makes jogging only marginally less torturous)
• Re-establishment of old friendships (thanks for being there!)
• My sense of humor (a strong sense of humor is sexy, right? RIGHT?!?)
• PATCO (so convenient, makes Philadelphia more accessible and the place to go for people-watching and urine-scented terminals)
• The West Wing (an ongoing reminder of the better angels of our nature)
• Skepticism and critical thinking (skepticism isn’t about doubting; it’s the process of applying reason and critical thinking to determine validity, of not accepting facts or ideas at face value, because they’re popular or support one's own personal beliefs, of continual vigilance against biases, agendas, logical fallacies, fear-mongering, misinformation and practices contrary to the rigorous application of the scientific method)
• Forgiveness and patience (without them I’d be SO totally screwed!)
• My home (apparently the one decent apartment complex in all of Lindenwold)
• My enormous penis (aren’t fantasies wonderful things?!?)
• Aging (it certainly beats the alternative)
• John Oliver (a lone, hilarious beacon in the night now that Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert have moved on)
• Not being a finicky, picky eater (so many flavors, so little time)
• MST3K/RiffTrax (humor, thy name is Rosdower)
• My country (for better or for worse there's still no place I'd rather be)
• Pain, sorrow and heart-break (without them could we ever truly appreciate their opposites?)
• Facebook (a convenient means of staying connected to others and to date the single best source of cat videos)
• The joy of writing (never let a complete lack of talent keep you from doing what you enjoy!)

Here's to our next trip around the sun! {clink}

Top 10 Signs that This Year's Christmas was Less than Merry

#10

Last Year: Sang Christmas carols to grateful, cider-bearing seniors at nearby retirement community

This Year: The carolers at your door? Ex-wives and girlfriends wielding tire irons and crowbars.

#9

Last Year’s Holiday Feast: Shrimp cocktail, freshly roasted turkey, mashed potatoes & gravy and homemade plum pudding

This year’s Holiday Feast: Two Slim-Jims, a tin of Turkey Spam, canned green beans and half a box of Ring Dings

#8

Last Year: Stolen kisses with Special Someone under the mistletoe

This Year: Rushed, drunken handjob from Jamie the cashier in Kmart parking lot

#7

Last Year’s After-Dinner Indulgence: Lounged in a supple leather wing chair with a snifter of Cognac and a fine cigar while catching up with family

This year After-Dinner Indulgence: Slammed shots of Robitussin and chain-smoked Camels from a rusty folding chair while sobbing to Brad from the Suicide Prevention Hotline

#6

Last Year: Took the kids to an enchanting live performance of The Nutcracker as performed by The New York City Ballet

This Year: Six hours of repeated airings of Jim Carrey’s How the Grinch Stole Christmas on sofa next to flatulent brother-in-law, Earl

#5

Last Year’s Favorite Gift: That sweet Movado you’ve had your eye on 

This Year’s Favorite Gift: Mismatched socks from Dollar General

#4

Last Year's Charitable Endeavor: Made a sizable, anonymous donation to the local homeless shelter

This Year's Charitable Endeavor: Salvation Army guy beats you bloody with bell after catching you trying to steal his kettle

#3

Last Year: Midnight mass with the family

This Year: Arrested for feeling up the hot forty-something soccer mom in the next pew during Exchange of the Peace

#2

Last Year's Christmas Card:  A concise, charming letter chronicling the past year's triumphs, challenges, tragedies and joys

This Year's Christmas Card: Some tired old shit you cut and pasted from your lame-ass blog

#1

Last Year: Surprised girlfriend with engagement ring followed by several hours of tender yet passionate lovemaking next to the Christmas tree while bathed in the soft glow of a crackling fireplace

This Year: Masturbated alone over pictures of Miley Cyrus dressed as an elf

'Tis the season to treat yourself to a refreshing "Let's See What's Under The Kitchen Sink" cocktail

Black Friday (and people wonder why I'm an atheist)

For me, Black Friday has traditionally referred to the day during which I remain home alone, ashamed of the previous day's unbridled orgy of gluttony and largely unable to move.  Still reeling from a carb and tryptophan-induced malaise, some years I'm barely able to get out of bed to attend to necessary bodily functions. The mirrors in my home are kept covered so as to lessen my shame and if I dress at all it's in tattered black rags that reek of Maalox.

For others, Black Friday signals the start of the holiday season and one that seems to be starting earlier each year. Many stores open Thanksgiving evening while others never close at all from Thanksgiving through the end of the weekend, thus blurring the line between Thanksgiving and Christmas to the undoubted delight of underpaid retail drones everywhere. As if working retail wasn't soul-crushing enough already.

Shopping on Black Friday isn't for the meek or those with low platelet counts. It's Olympic caliber shopping on steroids and as you might expect 'roid rage isn't uncommon. Every year the news regales us with tales of shopping-induced lunacy and outright bloodshed. I remember hearing one year about a 74-year-old woman who stabbed a woman who wouldn't relinquish the last Something-or-Other Elmo on the shelf.  Stories like this make me long for the days when Black Friday warfare was kinder and gentler, limited to shoving, biting and the occasional use of pepper-spray.

How proud our Holy Savior must be to see the celebration of his season ushered in with such ruthless and bloodthirsty gusto! WWJD? Why he'd shop of course and he wouldn't be a pussy about it, either. JC wouldn't hesitate to kick an ass or two if that's what it took to grab that last $99 laptop that Mary Magdalene's had her eye on.

If the stores were actually giving away their merchandise and offering 30-days of free oral sex after purchase you still couldn't drag me to within 100 yards of a retail establishment on Black Friday.  Yet I have friends and family who not only participate but actually look forward to it and enjoy it. It's like those sick fucks who associate pain with pleasure and can't get off unless someone's hanging dumbbells from their nipples with alligator clips.

Black Friday isn't to be enjoyed so much as endured, much like visits to see Grandma at Shady Acres, Fox News, Gwyneth Paltrow and every M. Night Shyamalan film since The Sixth Sense.

Attica. Watts. '92 LA. '68 Chicago. European soccer matches. Black Friday at any Walmart south of the Mason Dixon line. Any resemblance to civilized humanity is purely coincidental.

So as yet another Black Friday comes and goes I give thanks to a God whom I no longer believe exists for not having had to face the horror that lurks in the nation's malls and shopping centers on this most unholy of unofficial holidays.  And if you're one of those crazed, brazen lunatics prone to full-body shopgasms who just can't resist the call of the retail wild, I hope Black Friday is all that you hope for and that you manage to avoid any knife-wielding septuagenarians.

Glória in excélsis Deo, mother fucker!