Welcome to the Crazy Ass Bear's Find of the Day

There be weird monsters beyond this point and most of them go by names such as Teahadists, Palibanists, Morans, Goposaurs, Tealiban, and Al-Qrazy. I'll share some of the silliest ones who deserve to have a light shined on their stupidity.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

War On Christmas: Day Four

In any war it is important to know what kind of people make up the opposing army. After all, you wouldn't want to be stuck playing Chess with an idiot. But that's basically the position morons who insist there's a War On Christmas put sane people in--a Chess game played against idiots.

Think about it. This time of year (actually it started sometime between the pumpkins decaying on the porch and the racoons eating the last scrap of turkey carcass from the garbage) you can't drive down the street without being blinded by war victims. Every house is lit up so insanely, the war can be seen from space! Inside, the suffering masses huddle around dead trees dressed up and waiting for Santa to tell them it's safe to come out.

While the homeless huddle in doorways of condemned buildings, the war effort goes to building tight little mangers for plastic babies dressed as Muslims. And like most pet-loving people, they make space for their asses and other family members in the manger.

And of course by now most moderately sane people have several times a day imagined the feeling of piercing their own ear drums with knitting needles as something not as bad as chipmunks singing Silent Night over and over again in the market.

It's only day four but I'm ready to club the next raging lunatic that lunges at me wild-eyed and feral as they screech "Merry Christmas" at me as if it were the most vile insult on the planet. Somehow, in spite of the eternally damning hell of continual Christmas music sung, muttered, whined, yelled, and turned into electronic mayhem, and in spite of so much red and green and tinsel all draped over everything as if the Jolly Green Giant was being gored and displayed like a holiday roast, in spite of the continual warfare of commercials bombarding us everywhere we turn, these crazed Christian asylum escapees see me and others as enemies that can only be subdued by screeching Merry Christmas at us.

I can only fight them with their own words because that way they hang themselves and I can sit back and eat kittens wrapped in tissue paper with bows for breakfast.

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