Holidays: A Timeless Pull Down the Year’s Drain

Holidays rarely if ever thrill me, but why do the end of the year “festivities” have to drag on for months, dooming an otherwise perfectly-good cold dark miserable season?  Isn’t it bad enough old father time went from infancy to dodderdom in one little year, and that we have get our tax crap tied up on top of all the melty moments at parties to endure, pre-paid in one of the season’s thousand ridiculously-long lines.  Where in the world do all these folks come from this time of year, and why are they all in my grocer’s parking lot? Just one of the many mysteries of the season.  

Then there’s the office party, a political obstacle course that you run with several deviled eggs balancing on the end your plate; the endless wondering over what to get who and who to get anything; the forced time together with the strangers you haven’t seen since the last holiday (ie your “family”); in other words, the pure fun of the season.

If the stress of the holidays gets you down, well, hey, there’s always some time-tested holiday entertainment to get you out of your funk.  Only unfortunately, you’ve seen the Nutcraker about fourteen hundred times too many, and you aren’t under 18, so probably none of the holiday entertainment will actually appeal to you. Oh well.  There’s always the bars to hit, as long as they don’t force you to join in singing Christmas carols.  Can’t there be a law against that? 

As for me, even though I really can’t stand Thanksgiving above all, I lately have found it’s important to look for things to be thankful for in the world.  Why? Because otherwise I start to grow so hellashiosly negative and nasty that people begin to treat me like a social canker sore, and that is the last thing I need as the dark days start to crowd my head-space.  So I’m damn grateful to have at least one thing to be awfully grateful about this time of year, and that is the best holiday movie ever, hell, probably the best holiday anything ever: Bad Santa.  Man, that’s one funny flick!

So as you might imagine, I’ll be enjoying a little much-needed downtime this holiday season, just me, Hank and the cannibal chickens.  I’m trying to turn them on to Tofurky, as part of my new year resolution to reduce the monthly household guilt bill.  I can’t keep running to KFC at 3 am all the time.  If I see one more chicken bucket full of chicken-scoured chicken bones I swear, I’m gonna be sick.

Bad Apple Lasts One Whole Year!!

To all those folks who land here at Bad Apple hoping to find out just how long a bad apple will last — a surprisingly large number of you, I must report — well, apparently it can last at least a year or more, and just get better and bad-er. 

What is the secret to this amazing longevity of attention span on my part to keep this extraordinary flow of sass coming?  I can only attribute my proliferation of perilous word journeys, aka “posts,” to having hit a vein in my rotten niche of the universe and so far, the content just burbles forth like molten lava from a secret cesspool spring in the land of crack-addicted wood elves. In other words, “Jenna Say, ‘Qua,‘” as the Frenchies put it.

I will admit, I gain almost endless inspiration from the theme of rotten, stinky stuff, and in the future I do hope to further explore the connection between historically-bad smells and inspired participatory democracy.  You see, Bad Apple is not out rotting in a vacuum or some remote backwoods desert planet.  Her decay is firmly rooted in the context of this modern mess we’ve made of the world.  To review: Bad smells equals better government.  That’s why we all need to turn a little rotten, develop our soft spots and otherwise devote ourselves to the making of stink.

That said, I feel I would be derelict to not thank a few of the characters who have made Bad Apple’s first year of Internet life so colorful and fun.  I am of course referring to the cannibal chickens, Terminato the Killer Tomato, Little Spud Rasta, not to mention all the wood elves, celebrity mayors, etc., my long-suffering partner Hank, and of course, everyone who slighted me in the slightest or otherwise fed the incredible beast in my breast, born in a blog, aka Bad Apple.

And thanks all of you readers, and the thousands of page views you have given to me.  It’s so great to know somebody out there supports this kind of rot.  And I would like to understand you more, and know the answer to the incredible conundrum of just how long a bad apple can last, and whether you can use it to make some kind of intoxicating drink.  So if you know the answers, or even if you don’t, you are welcome to leave a comment anytime, and join the incredible unpredictable madness that is actually the only sane path in this crazy, messed up section of God’s company town.  

In the future, everything will be made perfectly clear.  With enough time and cider, we’re all going to eventually find out the answer to the question that keeps me guessing: Just how bad can an apple be??