Got an email and some quizzical direct twitters in response to something I said this morning.
To wit: What in pluperfect hell is “Ookymmas” and why are you wishing people a happy one? Also, why do all of your followers seem to know about it, but I’ve never heard of it? Also why are you so damned sexy, it’s unfair to the rest of us.
OK, I might have made that last one up.
Ookymmas, for those of you not in the know, is a new internationally recognized holiday.
Frankly, I am shocked, shocked, that you haven’t heard of it, it’s been the talk of all the media that’s fit to read. Major celebrities, politicians, talking heads, pundits, dads, cads, and small lads are all gushing on about Ookymmas. Really, where have you been?
Very well, as a public service, I, your humble servant and Ponderous Perambulating Pananjerum of the Ookymmas Parade and Drinking Festival, hereby outline the basic precepts of Ookymmas:
First the name, Ookymmas. It is an ancient word from a lost and mystical language. The language itself is unnamed in English and defies the Google translator because it’s one of those that consist mostly of grunts, click-click noises, and glottal stops. Ookymmas is one of only two words in this language that is pronounceable in English (the other strangely enough is “teabag”) – it’s sort of the Esperanto of holiday labels. The word, Ookymmas, is steeped in mystery and strong voodoo magic.
OK, not really.
It’s just a made up word that sounds really, really funny when you’re saying it in a drunken slur to the police officer who pulled you over for driving without lights, signals, or pants.
(A note on pronunciation: The last syllable should be pronounced maaaazzzzzzzzz! Rhymes with Taser)
And let that be your first introduction to the fun that is Okymmass, a day of unbridled consumerism, gleeful silliness, gay abandon, wily trickery, arcane humor, and booze-fueled naked-legged shenanigans.
In a radical departure from other holidays, Ookimmas is not associated with the birth, death, or zombification of any prophet or deity (or the sequel, Son of Deity: The Second Coming). Nor is it in commemoration of any president, potentate, explorer, animal, science fiction writer, disaster, attack, bank, skank, war, bore, woe, ho, smoe, or Holy Joe. Any attempt to hijack Ookymmas by any person, religion, nation, age group, ethnic group, or fruit loop will be looked upon with extreme disfavor and such attempts will be treated with scorn, sarcasm, ridicule, and the baring of buttocks in the general direction of the offending party. Also, the offending party will be assigned duties as the designated driver and barred from the consumption of fruity alcoholic beverages and easy gratuitous sex for the duration of Ookymmass (the rest of us will be hooking up, you keep your eyes on the road, Buster, also the backseat needs a good steam cleaning).
Ookymaas doesn’t fall on any particular date, rather it may be substituted at will for any other local, state, provincial, federal, or nationally recognized holiday (up to and including Fridays), as many times a year as necessary. It’s not intended to disrespect others’ beliefs, neurosis, hypocrisy, or pet bugaboos – that’s just sort of a free bonus. For example, whenever a fundamentalist TV evangelist looks out from his multi-billion dollar empire of glass, chrome, and blowjobs to decry the commercialization of little baby Jesus’ birthday – you should immediately declare Ookymmas! and commence some form of generally immoral activity (Drunken sex consummated in the manger display in front of your local Wal-Mart is a good place to start, just saying).
OokymmaX and the spelling thereof: nobody cares. Because Ookymmass is a totally made up word and isn’t associated with anybody’s God, gods, nation, relations, adulations, or ablations – nobody cares. Whenever anyone, anywhere, expresses outrage or puffed up offense at the usage of the abbreviation “Xmas,” Christmas shall be immediately suspended and Ookymmas substituted in its place. Period and no exceptions.
There are no symbols associated with Ookymast. No crosses, no crescents, no curly eared bunnies. No drunken goofs in red suits who smell of vomit, bourbon, Marlboros and foodcourt burritos. No resurrections. No tinsel. I don’t want to see yards full of cheap inflatable snowmen, Peanuts characters, or the Virgin Mary. Though I do personally admit a soft spot for that giant Marmaduke balloon they have in the Macy’s Day Parade (it may come in useful in a later step, bear with me). Mistletoe is acceptable, smooching random strangers is sort of the whole point of Ookymmas to begin with – if you don’t end up with a cold sore, you’re not doing it right.
There is no traditional food associated with Ookymaaz. Nobody has to get up early on Ookymmas to slaughter a ham or a flock of wild cranberries. Nobody has to make soup or defrost an ostrich. Sleep in. Order out. Get extra and give it to those less fortunate.
No Sermons. Period. Anybody wearing a robe and a funny hat on Ookymmaas better be headed to a toga party and/or an orgy – especially the clergy.
No nation is allowed to start a war for the duration of Ookymmass (OK, this isn’t an actual rule, but I’d like you to think about it).
No fucking caroling. The only music associated with Ookymmaass shall be the kind you can dance to. Anybody even thinks about teaching dogs to bark Ookymaas jingles will be fitted with a pair of headphones plugged into a iPod playing an endless loop of ABBA’s Fernando, lashed to the aforementioned Giant Marmaduke Balloon and set adrift in the jet stream (see? Told you it would come in useful). Everybody got that?
No trite phrases. Well, ok, you may use the phrase “don’t be a dick” if you feel it necessary (a perfectly acceptable Ookymmas response to “remember, the ancient midwinter Druid fertility rite is the reason for the season!”).
Greetings. Whatever. Happy Ookymass! Merry Ookymmass! Live Long and Prosper! Woooo, I’m fucked up, that’s some good eggnog, Grandma! Evening, Officer, what are you doing all the way up here?! Are all perfectly acceptable Ooky salutations.
Gift giving. Hell yes. But, buy yourself a gift first, just a little something. Because you deserve it. Keeping in the spirit of the holiday, I recommend pornography. It’s cheap, widely available, comes in a variety of personal flavors, and you can wear it with anything.
Stores may have Ookymmas sales any damned time they like, the more the better. Done right, Ookymass will singlehandedly kickstart the economy like a set of jumper cables clamped to Paris Hilton’s nipples. You don’t have to buy anybody a card for Ookymass, but you know it wouldn’t kill you to make the gesture either. Just saying. Cards should be humorous and preferably ones with pictures of naked people in them and some kind of pun.
Outside of that, anything goes.
Basically Folks, Ookymmas is the Calvinball of holidays.