Who cares about holidays and birthdays?

You know what?

Screw holidays. Screw special days, screw birthdays, screw Hallmark days. Seriously, just screw them all. I can’t stand any one of them. Never have, honestly. I will admit the only time I ever greeted a holiday with a smile was done entirely out of self-interest when, as a child, I looked forward to gifts and all their mysterious and colorful packaging which brought me great measures of greedy little happiness.

I’m goddamned 46 (today) and I have no use for such ridiculous mementos of cultural commemoration.
Holidays are BS.
Trivial symbolisms of a disingenuous nature which afford folks the opportunity to make blathering phony pronouncements of questionable gravity and sincerity.

Thankful…we’re all so fucking thankful.

Merry Christmas.
Have a Happy New Year’s, let’s make some meaningless and ill-fated resolutions. Let’s make a string of hollow promises to ourselves which we have no problem breaking because we utter them from one corner of our mouth while simultaneously rationalizing our inherent failures out the other.

Holidays are BS. Meaningless blocks of 24-hours spans that are nothing but ridiculous artificially dictated peremptory displays constructed to make “special” statements which really, if we are honorable and conscientious and caring beings, are made every day of our life in a variety of mundane manners and gestures.

Father’s and Mother’s Days are seriously a bunch of garbage, aren’t they? Is it tolerable to ignore your mother every day of the year except for that random day in May when you squeeze your whole family into that fatass temple of gorging, Hometown Buffet?

Aren’t we thankful every day of the year for what we have? Or shouldn’t we?

If not, maybe we need to reconsider our attitude and forget the turkey. Really, doesn’t Thanksgiving usually degenerate into nothing but a gluttonous, drunken feast which dissembles any coherent tribute to fate’s kind and generous hands. It’s all bullshit.

Birthdays are also bullshit. I like birthdays for obvious reasons, but I hate what they represent to us in terms of idle celebration. I try to ignore my own and expect most others to do the same. My birthday is difficult to ignore today since it is also Thanksgiving. A two-fold sucker punch. I try to lose myself in the flood of egregious helpings of turkey and every other festive and seasonal accoutrement possible surrounding me at the dinner table. You know why? Cause I’m a pig and I’m always thankful. I should have been dead about 5 1/2 years ago and each day is a “gift.” Yeah, a fucking gift and I’m thankful for that. I realize and understand the concept of thanks pretty damned vividly. I don’t need a stinking cold November day to remind me of my humble role; I really don’t want to remind anyone, either. Just give me my cake, let me eat and enjoy the empty symbolism which our society rejoices in.

Yesterday, someone asked me if I don’t like receiving gifts and hearing “Happy Birthday.”

I said I don’t not like receiving gifts, but if I really want something, I”ll just buy it. I’m pathologically practical. It means much more to me if the people closest to me wish me Happy Birthday in a simple phone call than getting gifts in coquettishly wrapped packages or eating an exaggerated dinner out.

Most of all I, despise the disruption of the normal day.

When I’m president and/or unqualified dictator of the world, all, all, holidays and aforementioned so-called special occasions will be outlawed. Banned. Violation punishable by a seriously overstated mode of punitive justice. Days of commemoration gone for good! Calendars will henceforth be nothing but rows of boxes parading by in series of seven and demarcating time’s march through the rest of the year. No days to be named after saints or relatives or national anniversaries or religious icons. Fuck all that.

Life will be pure and simple.