.. with additional content by Amanda..
Hello dear friends, dear readers. A Merry Christmas to you. We are bringing you a little gift today, because we are NOT afraid to put in a little work on the Baby Jesus’ birthday. We may be godless wretches. We ARE, however, definitely pretty lazy, so we generally take any excuse we can to not write a thing.. This will let it be known then that this video must be Pretty Incredible for us to get off of our slack ponies and mosey on over here.
We bring you Johnny Cash.
Now, I had gone my whole life without hearing this poem recited by anyone (this is Amanda right here typing in this particular paragraph btw), and I could have happily gone the rest of my life without ever hearing it. One thing is certain, however. Now that I have heard it, it will be a little while before I can go on to do ANYTHING happily. Maybe even a good long while. Billy Holiday decided it would be a great idea to share this little gem of uncheer, this little Christmas Glum, for some reason. Perhaps it is true that the misery wants company. In fact I would say it IS true because as soon as the video ended, I said, “let us write up an article on this thing. Let us write it RIGHT NOW at four in the morning.”
No doubt you are nestled up all snug and cozy right now, as you read this. Surrounded by those who love you, and eyeballing that large stack of presents that you and your loved ones spent way too much on. Of course you had to spend that much, because your love for one another can only be measured by how many worthless objects you have purchased.
Look to your left, and take note of the person you see. It could be your mother, your wife, or maybe even a girlfriend. Though knowing all of you romantic juggernauts, it’s probably your mother. You’re lucky, aren’t you? Lucky to have all of these people and objects in your life. Lucky that you have that nice tree full of presents underneath. Feel the warmth of the fire filling the room, or at least the semi-decent warmth of shitty electric heating. It is nice to be warm and safe on Christmas, isn’t it?
You fucking suck, you sons of bitches.
Imagine having nothing, like so many people out there might probably have. Or not have. They don’t have ANYTHING, not even nothing! Just some rickety old walls and a dirt floor, clothes they STOLE OFF OF A BEGGAR’S DEAD BLOATING CORPSE. Misery and shame, torment and guilt, pain and suffering – these are your only companions because everyone thinks you are too poor and wretched to deserve friendship. You only have a single remaining worthless parent who wallows in her own self-made Hell… Yeah think of THAT this day!
This recital is the true meaning of Christmas. When you spend the other 364 days of the year happy, what does it damned matter for you to be happy on the 365th? Christmas is all about being near-suicide levels of miserable all year long, and all of a sudden having one day where you don’t wake up and regret the fact that you just woke up.
You think the people around you love you? You think your mother loves you? Yes, your mother went out and bought you a bunch of fancy electronic shits that you’ll be replacing in a year when they are obsolete, and maybe a bunch of gay-assed sweaters. But would your mother freeze to death while power-knitting for you? Would she somehow magically revert back in age 30-some years? Would she make a gigantic pile of clothes that are “just your size,” somehow not factoring in that you are a growing boy and those clothes will probably be too small by next winter?
The fact that you are even reading this nearly sickens me after watching that video. The warmth radiating from your computer is more than that poor fella experienced that winter. You really are horrible people. I hope you’ve got a big box under that tree and when you unwrap it you find that it has a whole bunch of Go Fuck Yourself in it. I also hope you have a stocking full of SHIT.
Thank you, Johnny Cash. For a moment there I actually thought there was something worth being happy about.
A Southerner, Billy seems to be the most adult of us all. Especially in that shady, seedy kind of way.
Contact him: email@example.com