According to an article in the New York Post, there is an alarming upswing in the devil population and demonic possession and a shortage of Exorcists to fight them off.
I’m not so sure how to react to that news- laugh devilishly because apparently if you’re a demon you’re not going to be run off anytime soon or do I switch career fields and become an exorcist.
I know the obvious- you have to be a Priest and women can’t be Priests but to that I say: Beggars can’t be choosers and its about time the Church rethinks the entire Boy’s Only rule they have in that area.
If it fails, they can always say the Devil made them do it and they ask for forgiveness and hey presto it back to the status quo. It’s not such a hard thing to do. Look at White America- they did it when they put Trump into office in the effort to get things back to the way they were.
Result is- the Rockettes are going to be forced marched dance for joy, someone will say a prayer ( the woman leading the prayer Prays For Pennies but I think she’s doing it for free this time around )
So I am doing some reading up on Exorcisms, I’ll binge watch Supernatural and Lucifer and I may take a few notes on the Twilight Zone Episode ” The Howling Man ” and I’ll let you know what happens.
Hopefully, there will be Hell to pay and it pays better then minimum wage.
I, Anita Marie, take you 2017 to be my Brand Spanking New Year.
In the presence of the Blogosphere I offer you my solemn vow to not compare you to 2016 . I promise to put no other year above you. To you 2017 I do swear with all of my heart to keep my New Years Resolutions and to perform them joyfully.
” I’ll bet that’s what you tell all of the years you shameless hussy “
On the day after Christmas, the first thing to pop into my head when I open my eyes is ” Now what. ”
Since October I’ve been writing with the long dark nights as inspiration- I’ve been channeling surfing on the radio ( yes, I use a radio ) listening for different takes on Christmas Carols, I’ve gone on line looking for holiday sweaters and when I walk my dog I look for places where I can take pictures of him with holiday decorations in the background.
Now all I have to look forward to is the Spring.
Spring is the time of year when there is too much light, I wear clothes that look awful on me because Spring colors are pale and pasty and trimmed with delicate things like lace or eensy weensy flowers and itsy bitsy buttons.
I am not a pasteley person who likes to wear prints with weensy flowers and stupid delicate buttons that whisper ‘ Spring ‘
When Spring rolls around the shadows roll back and I feel like exposed and clunky and out of place. When I see bottles of sunblock show up on store shelves I want to do what Scrooge suggested with a little twist:
“If I could work my will,” said Scrooge indignantly, “Every idiot who goes about with ‘Merry Christmas’ on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should!”
Scrooge” A Christmas Carol.”
I want to bury that bottle of Sunblock in the heart of the first person who babbles on about needing the Sun and how they don’t feel alive unless they’re out sweating under a bright blazing Sun and they break out their sunglasses to- funny enough – keep the Sun out of their eyes.
The world after Christmas is a boring one.
Blah, blah, blah, I’ve been so cold, blah, blah, blah I hate the dark, whine, whine, whine , I need the Sun.
Not EVERBODY does.
So in our retail driven culture we now zip through holidays and with that we think we can zip through the Seasons too.
I think there’s an app for that now.
Devil take it all
I quit the Human Race.
So now that I am bound to be forced into an early Spring, I guess that this year I will wear lots and lots of black. I’ll wear my sunglasses indoors and cry about all of this awful light and remind my Sun Worshipping Friends of all the diseases they can get from tanning themselves and how the Pharaoh Akhenaten worshipped the Sun too and how his people turned on him for it ( Ok, I played with the details a bit, but it’s close enough to make my point ).
I am a Spring Scrooge.
I have no use for soft breezes and sun dappled streams and sitting under an umbrella drinking coffee ( someone needs to explain that to me) when it’s 80 degrees out.
Keep Spring in your way- and here keep mine too. I don’t want it. And may you both end up looking like over done microwaved hot dogs.
First of all I learned that in the Consumer Universe I am a novice, a beginner, I am without the survival skills one needs to compete in the shopping aisles on the day after Christmas.
People were mean and hostile- they road raged with shopping carts and a few of them were talking to their kids in a way I wouldn’t have talked to my own dog. My sister gave me her shopping cart and I hid at the end of an aisle were there weren’t any sale signs and tried to not make eye contact with the shoppers who strayed into such areas.
I did buy a couple of things- and when I was done I all but ran for the safety of my Sister’s car.
” Those people scared me.” said I- the former Mortician’s Apprentice, the writer of macabre, the woman who used to sit in the basement of a columbarium because it was warm down there and quiet.
” They are scary Anita. ” said my sister in a whisper. ” They are very, very scary. I should know. I do this all of the time.”
I backed away from my Sister and I was careful to not look her in the eye.
Next year I think I’ll stay home and skip the trip to the store. That experience unnerved me and no one should have to feel that kind of fear with ” Frosty The Snowman ” playing endlessly from a two dollar Christmas card ( half off ) hidden on a picked over shelf of discounted Christmas Decorations.
On Christmas Eve my Sister and our Mom and my nieces went to the cemetery to set flowers on our Dad’s grave.
It was cold that day- bright and cold.
My nieces joined my sister at the graveside and one of my nieces looked down at her Grandfather’s grave and didn’t quite shout:
” Grandma stayed in the car. She’s cold. She said to say hi.”
When they told me that, I cracked up.
Dad would have too.
When I got to my Sister’s place later that day I let my dog out of the car and he took a victory lap around her yard and then he peed on her inflatable Rudolph. I called him back before he could whiz on her Santa but I may have been to late. I can’t be sure. My eyes were closed. Seeing him pee on a happy Rudolph so wrong.
That night when she hit the switch and the inflatable decorations started to fill with air and come to life Rudolph took the longest.
We watched him struggle to come to life and then he simply gave it up and started to shrink.
” I think Hamish’s pee killed him.” I said wondering how many other people were stringing those words together on Christmas Eve.
My sister loves my dog. ” No. I saw Rudolph’s Soul leave his eyes yesterday. It’s sad. I wonder if I can get one on sale after Christmas?”
I looked down at Hamish and he was wagging his tail.
” And here people think I’m the morbid one. I am outing you guys. ” I looked down at my dog. ” You too.”
They both walked into the house and my sister was laughing- or it could have been my dog.
It was one of those nights when the odd and macabre came joined my fmaily Christmas Festivities and to be honest-
I wouldn’t have expected it to be otherwise.
My Niece and Hamish Macbeth- aka The Rudolph Slayer
I suppose that Cleaning Up after Christmas can be a chore, but does it have to be?
When I was young and we had to do clean up we actually had a lot of fun.
If you did kitchen cleanup you poured yourself a drink and hid in the kitchen and told wild stories and dirty jokes and butchered Christmas Songs with your own off colored versions.
It used to get so noisy and we carried on so much that before you knew it, the kitchen was full of people who wanted in on the fun and hey presto it was clean and you could take the Merry Making out into the living room where…
anything that was flammable went straight into the fireplace- we were not a green recycling family back in the day.
We were just really, really fond of fire.
The only problem we had was one year THE ADULTS of which I was not one of yet- had downed some Christmas Sprits in the kitchen and were so happy that they forgot to open up the chimney flue and it got a tad bit smokey.
Okay, it was really smokey but considering most of my family used to smoke I don’t think they noticed or cared. I mean, they weren’t exactly gasping for air. They probably inhaled most of it and then blew smoke jets out of the window and open doors.
I guess my point to this story is that you make your fun during the Holidays in a lot of different and creative ways.
I personally think that’s what having the Christmas Spirit is all about.
You can have fun when your scraping food off of plates, when you race out to the garbage cans with no shoes on because you’re too busy to put your snow boots on and you don’t want to lose a second of your time lacing them up or even LOOKING for them or when you dump a plate full of your Aunt’s famous homemade bourbon balls into that roaring fire place because you like the way they smell when they burn.
So if you’re clearing up or cleaning up or watching somebody else do it because you are the sharpest knife in the rack, make it fun.
And don’t forget to share the story at your next Holiday Clean Up.