As you know, I haven't quite decided what to do with myself now that I've retired from the Navy. With my personality type and weird useless skill set, I'm really only qualified for two jobs: writer or Ultimate Emperor of the Universe. I'm leaning towards Emperor since conquest of the universe is much easier to break into and requires a lot less effort on my part. Also I have to admit that the absolute corruption of absolute power holds a certain attraction.
As such, it is important that people understand what they're getting in their future despotic ruler, namely me. It's important that you understand what aggravates me, otherwise I've got to go through whole process of exiling people to remote and unpleasant corners of the universe every time that they piss me off - which is just more work for me. I've already got a long, long list of people who are going to be spending a dark cold winter at hard labor in the Phledbotinum mines of Pluto, i.e. people who drive too slow in the fast lane, astronomers who think Pluto is not a real planet, every single member of the WalMart Board of Directors along with that irritating bitch who keeps calling for Bob in Sporting Goods over the WalMart store-wide announcing system, Neocon Republicans, Young Earth Creationists, and everybody involved in the cancellation of Firefly.
So, let me add one more thing to the list, namely Christmas.
What is it, the 5th of November? That's like, what, three, maybe four, hundred days until Christmas? (That's in man shopping days, which as you know is different from actual physical calender days. Just go with me on this one) Already I'm seeing Xmas advertising (that's right, I said Xmas, blow it out your ass Bill Donohue, you sanctimonious jowl farm. One peep out of you and you'll be playing prison shower leapfrog on Pluto, bitch).
I don't hate Xmas, really I don't. I like presents, both the getting and the giving, and I really like Christmas cookies and massively overdone power-sucking front yard light displays. I like getting woken up early by my son on Xmas morning, who's all excited and trying not to show it. But, I just utterly goddammed hate Xmas advertising. I hate it. And I just plain detest certain Christmas carols, especially that Little Drummer Boy song (especially the excretable Joan Jett version), I'd like to stuff that drummer kid (and Joan Jett) into his big round percussion instrument and roll it into last minute LA Christmas traffic. However, if there is any Xmas song I find more annoying than Joan Jett's two-pack a day and prison-wine voice, it's that stinking Carol of the Bells piece of shit. Every single time I hear that song it's like listening to a George W Bush speech on human rights, full of halting sentence structures and mispronounced words in that ignorant ten-gallon hat and giant garbage-can lid belt buckle drawl, and I have the nearly overwhelming urge to douse a church choir in gasoline and light them on fire.
So, at the very top of the distressingly long list of things that irritate me are Christmas commercials that incorporate either of those two songs. Once I've assumed an Imperial stranglehold on absolute power, every advertising executive who produces a TV commercial that uses either of those annoyingly idiotic carols will be sent to Pluto. Their sentence will be determined as follows, five years for every time the commercial is played during prime time (prime time determined as the time I am watching TV or even thinking about watching TV). I will also be issuing an Imperial order making it illegal to begin Xmas advertising more than two calender weeks prior to December 25th, period, no exceptions. Additionally, Christmas advertising will be banned completely from children's programming.
Really, enough already. Stop it, and stop it right now. Or else. You've been warned.
Update: Oh yeah, one more thing, Dogs Barking Jingle Bells - that'll earn you a life sentence on Pluto, so don't even think about it.
Things, they are gonna change, Part 4
Things, they are gonna change, Part 3
Things, they are gonna change, Part 2
Things, they are gonna change, Part 1