Christmas. Bah. Humbug.
Not even Thanksgiving yet and it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Getting off the train, the station looked like Santa's elves had been working overtime all weekend. I guess we're just going to skip over Thanksgiving this year. All we need now is Fox News complaining about a "War on Christmas" for it to really feel like the most wonderful time of the year. Of course the Fox News memo telling its employees of its "holiday" party, not a "Christmas" party reminds me that they know what they peddle to their near dead audience is just an act. In any event, it's that time of year again.
It's the time of year again when a few family year in review letters will find their way into my mailbox. I hope they don't. Here's a news flash - I don't care. And I don't mean that in a routine I don't care kind of way. I mean I really, really don't care. Why do people think that anyone cares about whether little Betsy got that third understudy role in the school play? Sparky Jr. hit a triple in game 5 of the Pee Wee Little League World Series? Who cares. Your cat had kittens? Your house got a new kitchen? Next time send a gun and bullet with your brag letter so I can end it all before I get to the thrilling tale of your trip to the largest ball of string. Bang.
I can take a photo or two every now and then. That's what email is for. But a lengthy letter by snail mail, perhaps with a personalized stamp of your prized pooch, is just too much. You got a promotion, you went to Euro Disney and your kid was voted soccer player of the year for six-years-olds. If we weren't close enough for me to know that before you sent the letter then don't. Sometimes the letters aren't even brag letters. They're more like "here is my medical records for the last twelve months." You got sick and felt dizzy over the last year? Well I'm getting that way right now reading your God-damn letter.
So Please. I beg of you. No letters. If your life is so interesting as to be worthy of being memorialized in print - I'll wait for the book to come out.
It's the time of year again when a few family year in review letters will find their way into my mailbox. I hope they don't. Here's a news flash - I don't care. And I don't mean that in a routine I don't care kind of way. I mean I really, really don't care. Why do people think that anyone cares about whether little Betsy got that third understudy role in the school play? Sparky Jr. hit a triple in game 5 of the Pee Wee Little League World Series? Who cares. Your cat had kittens? Your house got a new kitchen? Next time send a gun and bullet with your brag letter so I can end it all before I get to the thrilling tale of your trip to the largest ball of string. Bang.
I can take a photo or two every now and then. That's what email is for. But a lengthy letter by snail mail, perhaps with a personalized stamp of your prized pooch, is just too much. You got a promotion, you went to Euro Disney and your kid was voted soccer player of the year for six-years-olds. If we weren't close enough for me to know that before you sent the letter then don't. Sometimes the letters aren't even brag letters. They're more like "here is my medical records for the last twelve months." You got sick and felt dizzy over the last year? Well I'm getting that way right now reading your God-damn letter.
So Please. I beg of you. No letters. If your life is so interesting as to be worthy of being memorialized in print - I'll wait for the book to come out.
posted by Crankyboy at 10:35 PM
6 Comments:
Definitely crossing crankyboy off my Christmas gift list!
Look for my epic novel "What I Did This Summer" at a book store near you soon.
Oh no. I always accept gifts. Cash is best.
This was your best yet! I agree, I agree, I agree.
Train buddy
Absolutely hilarious! Does your family really send year-in-review letters? :-)
These are the "hey look at my life" letters from people I'm not close enough to know what's going on in their lives but close enough I guess to be on the letter list. Mercifully no close family members have sent me anything like this.
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