Happy...I mean Merry...Aw F-ck It...

You know what I'd like to get for Christmas? And Chanukah? And Kwanzaa? And Boxing Day? And Yule? And Beltane? And Solstice? And Big-Fat-Man-With-The-Long-White-Beard Day? And all of it? To keep with me all through the year?

I'd absolutely LOVE for people to stop pissing and moaning about what we should all say to each other about having a lovely season.

Christians, I hate to point fingers, but this one is on us. My findings are based on the small sample of my own experience, but I gotta tell y'all, I have NEVER heard or read of a non-Christian who was even the tiniest bit ticked off about being wished a "Merry Christmas" during the latter few months of the calendar year. Not a once.

Any bitching or complaining I hear or read, on the other hand, is coming from people who think they're not allowed to say "Merry Christmas," that there's some prime directive coming down from somewhere to persecute them into saying (gasp) "Happy Holidays" to people. As if suggesting that saying "Happy Holidays" is akin to dropping a flaming bag of dog poop afront your manger scene. Really? REALLY? Is this such a big insult that we're flooding social media with it? Wasting rage we could be saving for Donald Trump and those fucking barking Jingle Bell dogs? Sorry, they get on my nerves...but actually, this is great, if you're offended that I hate the barking Jingle Bell dogs, vent your spleen at that, just get the hell off the "don't tell me happy holidays" crusade. (P.S. There's also too much Steve and Edie on the radio, but I'd better stop before I invite death threats toward my general direction.)

Because I LOVE you all, but this petty little war over Merry Christmas v. Happy Holidays really makes you sound like little bitches.

And by the way, you might notice something about the word "holiday." Stay with me, because this is a subtle, complicated one: The word "holiday" is actually a compound word that means the same thing as (wait for it) HOLY DAY.  If anything, it's got more of whatever god you like in it than the Christmas word. Did I just rock your world? Blow your mind?

Wait, there's more. The word "Christ." Anyone? It's Greek. It has to do with being annointed. Blessed. Holy. Oh, there it is again.

Have a happy Christed time. Annointed, blessed, holy time.

In other words (drum roll):

IT. IS. ALL. THE. SAME.

So for the love of Krishna, could we please get over it? Because don't look now, but we have bigger fish to fry, people. While we're all bickering amongst ourselves about how to (or not to) wish each other a lovely winter season of light and love, there's a tiny orange clown-haired demagogue all up in our faces suggesting we bring back the Third Reich. A splinter group of self-hating, diseased psychopaths have hijacked Islam (a faith based on love and respect for all life) for their own murderous purposes, so here's what let's do, let's ban all Muslims. That'll do the trick nicely. Let's paint an entire race of people, who've contributed more light and color and art and brilliance and joy to humanity than could ever be measured, just like all other races and religions, with the same brush. Real smart.

I happen to love and honor a whole bunch of Muslims within my personal sphere, but even if you don't know or care about a single one, is that the kind of world you want? The kind where we're all born into some religious group or other, and have to either (1) live in paranoia that the other guy is crapping all over our cherished beliefs or (2) advocate that we kick out everybody who doesn't look and eat and talk and pray exactly like us?

For me, that world just plain sucks.

But P.S., if that IS the world you want to live in, how long do you think it'll be before the evil darkness that's hating on them decides to come for YOU?

Because in a world where we're run by this kind fear and distrust, no one is safe, no matter what group you're in. That's the one truth you can take to the bank. And it's what the black hats hiding in the shadows are counting on. If we turn on each other, it makes their work a hell of a lot easier.

So let's stop all that crap, shall we?  It's a bad dream we can all wake up from, That monster we're all full of hate and terror about? It lives on our hate and terror. Feeds off it. We can starve that monster to death if we want to. This is not some pretty metaphor. It's the truth. Do your own research, and you'll see it too.

And with the monster dead, that'll make for such a merry everything that no one will have the time or inclination to give a flying you-know-what about what to say around the whatever log or tree or candelabra you favor. We'll all be so happy together, no one will even notice where the light is coming from, because it'll be coming from everywhere.

Merry Happy Jolly Christed Annointed Blessed Holy Time Of Light to all of you.

And for the Love the whole sorry lot of us, be kind.

On the Everloving Edge

Is there anybody out there who has experience taking care of special-needs kids who can keep Calvin alive for me on Thursday, May 21, 2015, between the hours of 3 and 6 p.m.? 

I need a sitter, and not just any sitter will do. Because my child has autism, in case I haven't mentioned it. And make no mistake, I've been working for years to try and solve this problem so I wouldn't end up in these binds all the time so that I have to grovel all abject and pathetic for someone to help yank my ass out of the fire. But I have not yet experienced the glory of snagging that brass ring. Because, speaking of asses, it appears I'm the butt of some sick joke that someone in the vast machine that is public policy thinks is really really REALLY cute.

The way it works is this. They tell you that your child's severe disability means there are wonderful, humane services available to help you out here and there. And there are. You've seen them. They are not the mere stuff of legend. You have friends in situations similar to yours whose families have had access to these services for some time now.  

But let's get something straight. You are NOT entitled to such services that would make life so much more bearable for your family. Someone tells you this right out the gate--so don't get cocky, cowgirl. The point is, though, they're out there, those possibilities of help, and you can find out if you're eligible for them, and then you can apply for them. 

We won't tell you how exactly to do this applying thing, it's kind of trial and error. You have a decent chance of making it, though, kind of like the guys who found the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Nag Hammadi Library. But that's part of the magical adventure of it all, sort of a Pirates of the Caribbean meets Raiders of the Lost Ark deal. So just follow the yellow brick road, then when the road changes color with no warning follow that one, for a while until you realize it was the wrong one (no it wasn't, ha ha), so then of course you just jump in this here helicopter, make a left at the unicorn on the motorcycle, hike the Himalayas at dusk, straight on down the rabbit hole till morning. 

Ok, fine, you can do that, and so you do, because you're a good citizen who follows all the rules, makes all the calls, fills out all the papers, goes to all the medical appointments, gets the mandatory special evaluations, then gets them again when the ones you already have are too old, goes to all the interviews, attends all the mandatory classes, then goes to new mandatory classes because the old ones don't count anymore (ha ha again, you silly), then you find out why your caseworker has disappeared, oh she's been replaced and no one told you, ok, cool, no problem, I'm easy, I got nothing going on over here, just everybody chill, take your time, no worries, I'm doing GREAT.

So you bust your ass, full time, year after year with that carrot dangled in front of you (the one that your child is not entitled to, please don't get the wrong idea), and the punchline is that you never ever fucking get there. At least that's where I'm at. Have been at. For like ever. Is that not a laugh riot? I am so cracking up. My whole family is. Most of all my boy, who works harder within the space of an hour than I do in a month even with all these fun hoops I get to jump through.

Nice, right?

Anyway, May 21. Anyone?