From: shampton@jarthur.claremont.edu (Scott M Hampton)
Subject: Re: The Other Side of the Chanukka Bush
Keywords: hohoho, rudolf, moishe, treeworship, saturnalia
Organization: Harvey Mudd College, Claremont, CA 91711
Date: Mon, 14 Dec 1992 19:23:22 GMT

In article <18105@autodesk.COM> booter@Autodesk.COM (Elaine Richards) writes:
>So, what is my peeve?
>
>Crabbiness. Humbuggery. Scroogitude. I will be magnanamous and attribute
>it to the short days and recession. However, a general lightening up
>and learning to ignore the bullshit is in order, people. I watched an
>old Murphy Brown rerun, where the WASP princess demanded that the Jewish
>producer decorate the office for the Christmas party. Rather than be a
>grump, the guy decorated the office with a huge menorah and mogen Davids.
>(Mogens David?) 

Peeve, of course, is that people think that because I am a curmudgeonly
bastard at Christmas, I am somehow uptight. No, I am a mellow and relaxed
asshole, capable of blandly ignoring the crassly assinine behavior of the
populace at large. I am remarkably self possesed in my disgust for my fellow
humans, I am calm in my loathing for the common herd - their paltry and
meaningless existance as taxpaying consumers of crap - and I am warm
heartedly aglow with arrogant aristocratic elitism. My spirit is positively
choking on the upwelling sentiments I feel at this time of the year. There
is no room in my heart for sickly scrooginess, halting humbuggery, or crass
crabbiness.

Tis the season for rejoicing that I have neither TV nor radio in my house,
and that I cancelled the newspaper last month.  Ahhh, peace and celebration.

You see, it is my irrate sensitivity that keeps me calm. My spirit is bright,
as I know that at least a few stoopid dorks will improve the world by
killing themselves over the holidays. If only I could somehow make
everything in the Toys-Fucking-Backward-R-Us leak toxic fumes after
purchase, I would have a complete and joyeous holiday. As it sits, tho',
going out in public is a drag, what with the continuous decline in the
quality of solstice celebration. From drunken revels and casual sex to dead
pine trees and gift wrapped shit. This is not progress. The music that is
piped into public places is bileous, and the decorations peurile (great
word, I really love it).

Best of all, I'll will be visiting my ..... in-laws. I have thoughtfully
stocked up on all of the really interesting pharmoceuticals and botanicals
in common use today, and am thus prepared for the convivality of my entirely
too Mormon relations-by-law. This year I bought them a really rare bottle of
wine for Chrismas! Which has gone stale, but in a such a way as to be nigh
unnoticable to the plebes - until after it has been swallowed, when the
wonderful flavor of putrefecation blooms. This is vengeance for the
wonderful gift I got last year of the ENTIRE written works of
what-in-the-fuck-is-his-name-that-started-the-cult.  Which I used as trade
credit at Shakespeares in Berkeley for some deligtfully depraved French
erotica from the 18th century. The wine has no such redeeming value, but is
really impressive looking 68' Bordeaux that I got for free! Justice shall be
served, hopefully in socially embarassing way. Ten years I've been married
and I still despise them. Go figure.

Who sez i don't have any Chrismas Spirit! I'm full of Mirth and Brotherly
Love. 

Before I leave we're doing the quality solstice thang with live tunes by
some friends, a bunch of us in the kitchen, and an aproximately equal
distribution of the appropriate genders. That'll be fun.

Oh, Booter: Can I have one of them pictures you did? That would be way cool,
definitely an !Peeve. Pleeeeze? I promise to George it!

Peeve2: Mormons. All of them. Humorless gits, useless wanks, hard working
unimaginative mind numbingly closeminded puritanical soulless lackwits. No
music, no dancing, no alcohol, no random acts of meaninless violence, no
caffiene, no drugs, no partying, no joy, no nothin' what makes life worth
living. Uggh. Like Norman Rockwell paintings in which nobody ever smiles.
Like Jesse Helms on a really bad day. Like you can't even begin to imagine
it unless you've lived in Utah or Idaho or west Colorado where they run
everything. Hideous. Bad. Ugly. Day after mind numbing day. Bad. Bad. Bad.
Bad. Bad.......
-- 

Scott M. Hampton             Woulffe            shampton@jarthur.claremont.edu
Xref: sparky alt.peeves:18350 alt.angst:4810