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Enjoy fellowship, goodwill and turkey, y’all. And if you happen to get something to unwrap, all the better.

Even though so many of them are anti-funny, the comics page lives on in many newspapers. There are many ways to view comics online, but here’s one of the better ones I’ve come across yet: The Houston Chronicle gives you the option to build your own comics page. Just go to this link and choose your favourites, as many as you want. Click the submit button, then a new page comes up.
Simply bookmark this new page and you’ll have a handy-dandy link to all your favourite comics, updated daily.

Once upon a time, for no real reason, I came up with a simple video sketch idea that might someday go in my huge as-yet-unproduced-sketch-comedy-show-that’ll-never-happen. Basically, it’s this feeble, old couple who drive around the city, looking at the Christmas lights. Only thing is, she doesn’t know how to drive, and he has a condition that doesn’t allow him to drive when it’s dark. So, they drive around at noon, and have to imagine what the lights would look like if it was dark.

Well, tonight, I was driving home from St. Catherines and, I must say, I was glad I’m allowed to drive at night. Because it was a gorgeous night to be driving, and so many of the houses along the way home looked fantastic. I was mightily impressed with both the quantity and quality of houses decorated.

This year, I Scrooged and didn’t bother to put up any lights or decorations outside the house. So, to those who made the effort this year to put up lights and such, I just want to say a big ‘Thank you’.

Or “Everything’s Ducky”.

Last night, I was out with Dave S and after a couple of pints, we decided if we could come up with a sure-fire terrible movie. One that was sure to flolp.

This is what we came up with (a couple of additions I’ve made this morning): Cox’N’Ducks is about a single mother, Sandy Cox (played by Posh Spice with voice over-dubbed by Elizabeth Taylor) and her two kids (Johnathon Lipnicki and that girl who was recently in those Pepsi tv ads, the Curley Sue type girl). A rich relative has died, and in his will, he bequeaths a large amount of money to the Cox family. Providing that they take care of a family of ducks for a defined period of time; and provided that they can spend a night in the haunted house.
The care-taking of the ducks takes its toll on the family and tensions are high. The night of the haunted house arrives and everyone is angry at each other. Various creepy things happen: a horse chase (or was it a nightmare!!), a talking dog and a talking cat (both voiced by Nathan Lane) who live in the house, set up traps to get the family to leave. And the appearance of the (animated) ghost of the rich relative (voice of Emeril), who gets the family to understand the true value of family, by having them look at how well the duck family gets along.
It’s the morning of the big duck inspection, duck inspector (Rowan Atkinson) arrives. One of the ducks is sick, however, and the Cox family asks the talking cat to dress up as the duck, to fool the inspector. In return, the Cox family will adopt the cat and dog. Cat agrees. The inspection occurs, ducks pass inspection, the Cox family wins the money. But more importantly, they learn the true value of family.

Can you make it worse?

…suddenly, under the Lazy Susan in the kitchen of The Annekenstein Monster, on Sunday, December 14, 2003, of A. Pesky Mouse. Age one month.
Survived by Hopefully No Other Mouse. Hated nemesis of Resident Cat, Arista. Resting in the Green Compost Bin until Next Wednesday. Visiting hours anytime before that, if you’re into that kind of thing. Interment later in Island Waste Management Corporation’s Compost Facility.
In lieu of flowers, memorial donations can be made to help defray the cost of the mouse trap.

My son is 10 years old. I am ready to give up the Santa Claus thing. I think he’s already given it up, but is smartly playing it because he theorises that it means more gifts.
So, how to find out he’s given up the jolly ghost without blowing it if he hasn’t? Any ideas?
When I was a kid, I don’t know how old exactly, but young enough to still believe, my older brothers stole my letter to Santa and took it outside. I followed, frantically trying to grab it back. My brothers held the letter out, and lighted it on fire. It burned to bits, the ashes floating here and there. I wailed. My brothers told me that this was the best way to get your letter to Santa. The ashes magically find their way to the North Pole.
I may have believed in Santa, but I knew a load of bull when I heard it. I knew there was no way to get all those ashes back together. How would Santa know I wanted a slinky if the ashes were strewn over our back yard? I wailed.

Well, I thought, this year, I’ll pull the same story on Cameron. I’ll threaten to burn his list. If he gets upset then I’ll know he still believes. If he doesn’t then chances are he’s beyond Santa.
Out in the yard we go, me with the little propane lighter, him with his list. I tell him we’re gonna burn his list. He doesn’t comprehend this, mostly, I assume, because it’s a ludicrous and foolish idea. So, I explain carefully the reason behind this technique of letter delivery. The ashes magically find their way to the North Pole. As I explain, I’m looking closely at his reactions to see him smirk or wink or anything that’ll clue me in to where he’s standing on Santa. Nothing. Nothing, that is, except “Cool, let’s torch it.”
Up it goes, in flames. No wailing. No worrying that his list won’t get to Santa.

There you have it. Proof he no longer believes.

Right?

I consider myself someone who is able to play devil’s advocate in most every situation. Whether it’s a situation of personal calamity, or something that doesn’t involve me in the least, I take a bit of pride in the fact that I can look at the situation from the other point of view. I can be objective.

When I saw the video of Hussein being swabbed, mouth open wide, red-aflame from the flashlight, I saw the emptiness, sadness, tiredness in his eyes and I felt bad for him. Yes, of course: He’s a murderer of the worst kind. He’s a human of the worst kind. He deserves punishment in the extreme. And, yes, I understand that the anguish, humiliation, fear, suffering that he was feeling at that time doesn’t come close to the angusih and suffering he and his torturers have forced countless Iraqis to endure.

Still, watching the video of that moment, I felt for the man. I guess seeing a Fallen Human, no matter how despicable he is, in such a moment of weakness, touches the humanity in me.

Sigh.

When I lived with my parents, we had an artificial tree. It wasn’t a great plastic tree, but it was all I knew. Then, when I got married, we made the leap to real trees. We didn’t go so far as to trudge into the woods and cut one down. Our Christmas Tree Hunting involved little more than, a coupla weeks before The Day, driving to the Zellers parking lot, quickly looking at a couple, picking one out and buying it.
The first number of years, I really liked the concept of the Real Tree. Tying it to the top of the car; family driving home slowly; sawing off the bottom of the trunk; lugging it in the house; sweeping up the needles; letting it settle and acclimate for a day or so; sweeping up the needles; putting lights on; sweeping up needles; watering; decorating; watering; sweeping; watering; etcetera etcetera…
I think it was last year, the tradition of ‘getting the tree’ began to wear on us. So, this year…today in fact…we made the decision to get a fake tree. It was like we were letting Christmas down. Somehow it seems like putting up a plastic tree is another nail in the coffin of the tradition of Christmas.
We got a tree that has the lights already built into it. All white lights. It’s a nice 7.5 foot plastic pine tree that actually looks pretty darn good.
There’s no smell of pine (that can be, I assume, managed with potpourri), and that’s too bad. But there’s no needles on the floor, no watering.

Christmas, I hope we haven’t let you down.

Okay, I’m granting you the chance to go back in time, to any place in the world, to any time in the 20th century to witness your favourite band/performer play one song live in concert. You will arrive in mid-concert amid the crowd already there, two minutes before the artist plays the song you chose, and then leave two minutes after the song is over.
You have to tell me who the artist is, where (time and place) the venue is, and what the song is. I’ll even let you give me three choices. The best one choice gets to go.

My three choices are:

1) The Beatles in The Cavern in Liverpool in 1963 performing “Twist and Shout”
2) The Clash in any venue in London in 1977 performing “Complete Control”
3) The Pixies at U-Mass in Boston in 1990 performing “U-Mass”

3a) XTC anywhere at anytime playing any song.

Seriously, this is not for everyone.

If you don’t want to see a video of a guy shoving his head into a sheep and then being dragged (or is it drug) around a barn, just don’t click on the link, okay.

Just don’t.