Sid: How do you spell “holiday”?
John: S-H-I-T.
Sid and Nancy
Just call me Scrooge, but I despise the holidays. Period. End of story. And working retail for the better part of a decade has only made things worse. I swear, if it weren’t for my violent revenge fantasies I don’t think I would be able to make it through the day.
The Gaiman Christmas cards I ordered came in today. Yay!! (Actually, according to the postmark they came in about a week ago, but… I have mail issues.) These things are soo awesome! Damn it, why is Christmas still so far away?
older than sin, and his beard could grow no whiter. He wanted to die.
The dwarvish natives of the Arctic caverns did not speak his language, but conversed in their own, twittering tongue, conducted incomprehensible rituals, when they were not actually working in the factories.
Once every year they forced him, sobbing and protesting, into Endless Night. Durring the journey he would stand near every child in the world, leave one of the dwarves’ invisible gifts by its bedside. The children slept, frozed in time.
He envied Prometheus and Loki, Sisyphus and Judas. His punishment was harsher.
Ho.
Ho.
Ho.
I just ordered a bunch of these cards to give out for Christmas. Gaiman is a fuckin’ genius.
Neil Gaiman, Smoke and Mirrors
Cruelly Cunning 