At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

STICK THIS IN YOUR CHRISTMAS FAIRY!

What does a half-crazed Dutch-American pipe-smoker want for Christmas? Someone asked, and even though I am the arch-type of bah-humbugger around this time of year, and vehemently opposed to celebrating the birthday of that overweight child molester in the red suit, I should probably answer.
Who knows, I may actually get what I want.

Most of it will be framed in the negative.


CHRISTMAS WISH LIST

NO pipes - I own well over a hundred, I only smoke about twenty of them regularly, and I have picky taste. If you can find an unsmoked Comoys Blue Riband squat bulldog with no dings or scratches, fine. You won't, though.

NO tobacco - did I ever mention my stockpile? I've got more pipe-tobacco stashed away than you can shake a stick at. Besides, Balkan Sobranie (in the white tin, $300 and up on e-bay) hasn't been manufactured in years.

NO pornography - it only depresses me. Why is it that every girl in a smut-film has a vacant expression and tattoos? Can't they hire talented food-photographers, and clean happy women, to make nice light-hearted filth?

NO pajamas or socks - unless you are a small woman with bright eyes and a sense of humour I won't model them anyway. But you'd need a sense of humour - no amount of aesthetic blindness would help.

NO fruitcake - it makes me think of Texas, even if it's edible fruitcake - a contradiction in terms. What I use to keep the kitchen door from slamming open and shut during storms is actually an old sock filled with pebbles.

NO chocolate - I don't dislike chocolate at all. I eat it. All of it. Then I spend several hours kvetching about how I should NEVER have done so. Eaten it. All of it. At one fell swoop. I have no self control. That's your fault.

NO teapots - the last one I acquired cost a few hundred dollars - fine purple sand ware from China, made during the nineteenth century. A nice antique. The collection isn't perfect, but I really do not need another one.

NO video-games - electronic masturbation isn't my thing. Running around killing aliens and collecting magic weapons is just a metaphor for dealing with a messed-up love-life or teenage sexual frustration.

NO dried fruits - do you know what those do to the depressed fifty-year old Dutch-American digestive system? The only fruits I eat are chilies and tomatoes. Oh, and eggplant. Plus maraschinos in my Manhattans.

NO Santa dolls - did I ever mention my adventures with voodoo? A Santa doll would have needles stuck in it, burning matches applied to the beard, limbs torn off, and vile curses chanted at it in lugubrious tones.


Bah. Humbug.


See? Isn't that simple?


The whole 'Fat-Red-Pervert' holiday is so easy, once you follow my instructions.
Tell your folks, tell your friends. Thanks to me your holiday stress is gone.

I intend to grumble, scowl, and smoke my pipe all weekend. With several cups of tea.
Perhaps I'll obsessively read and reread all the most degenerate passages in Nabokov.
Really, spending Christmas with Ada and Van Veen doing dirty things will be just perfect.


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NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
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6 Comments:

  • At 2:31 PM, Blogger The back of the hill said…

    I just finished a box of chocolate truffles that I was given this morning. Damn. And there's no one here to hear me kvetch.

    It's all your fault.

     
  • At 5:39 PM, Anonymous smuggly amphibious said…

    The Giants won the World Series. I don't need any other Christmas present for the rest of the decade.

     
  • At 9:14 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    A bucket of some sort of deep fried meat then, with a lovely dipping sauce, and perhaps a bottle of scotch, single malt. Peaty.

     
  • At 11:22 AM, Anonymous bibulously amphibious said…

    Aye, peaty...and smoky, forbye.

     
  • At 9:32 AM, Anonymous Conservative apikoris said…

    "Why is it that every girl in a smut-film has a vacant expression and tattoos?"

    You know, classic porn from the 1970's is still available. The movies had a plot, there was even some character development, and the women and men were even reasonably good looking.

     
  • At 2:00 PM, Blogger The back of the hill said…

    Tayere CA,

    Thanks for the pointer - I'll have to go look for it. I also remember that the smutty magazines I bought as a teenager had better production values - high quality stock, excellent lighting in the photos and perfect colour printing (I was trained in graphics, and know printing technologies), and above all people who looked fresh and open.

    Printed porn nowadays looks more like photos from the coroner's office. Filthy-minds seem no longer to have any standards whatsoever. Sad.

     

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