The Red Dragon is Overfed

A quick note to wish any intrepid Christmas readers a good one, both for their benefit and to demonstrate I am not in so much awe of spurious Christian traditions that try to convince us Jeebus was a Capricorn that I cannot type on the fake day of his birth. Especially considering we're postponing the non-churchy bits of Christmas (that is, PRESENTS PRESENTS PRESENTS) until the young people get here on the 27th. Nonetheless, Happy Christmas to all, especially people who are actually interested enough to read this blog. You have no idea how endearing that makes you to me.

There are no complaints from here yet. We've been eating like pigs and my family is well. Although Magnum had to respond to a fire last night and his plat0on ch1ef was an oaf who nearly got people killed for the sake of an empty building. There's something of a romantic hero about Magnum, which could be why I've never been into the Romantic Hero type. But because of his romantic-type heroism I've never worried too much about him being a f1reman, figuring it was a socially wonderful outlet for that heroism, better than the army or being a cop or something. Also, Rescue Me is some damn fine television. But now I'm a little more worried thinking of how the decisions of incompetent or stupid rank superiors could endanger him. That's hard to countenance.

That's as exciting as the present gets, although I'd like to commemorate the vast quantity of food we prepared and ate last night, including TWO tomato sauces, one with shrimp and the other with salt cod. But duty calls in the shape of jumping on Figaro to wake his lazy ass up and of washing my hair before going to my yearly Catholic service - keeping my hand in, in case the doors to Heaven don't open to Quakers, though you'd really have to wonder what sort of Heaven would be closed to an earnest Quaker and open to a ersatz Catholic. So I'd like to leave you with the news that it's been snowing ever so lightly during the nights and making things pretty in the morning, which is all this "look but don't touch" winterphobe could ask from Santa.

Merry Christmas, everyone!