Jingle Balls

‘Jingle Balls, Jingle Balls’ My Stupid Brother Started Singing

Jingle Balls

I hate Christmas. I hate the holidays. I hate families. So of course this makes me go back to the wonderful John Waters movie Cecil B. DeMented. “Family is just a dirty word for censorship!”

In the spirit of the holidays, I wrote my tribute to them in my Lakers story on Friday. It was sparked by one too many stupid pictures on Facebook. So the first four paragraphs of the story I wrote:

The holidays are such a miserable time. There’s a myth that people enjoy being reunited with the family. Perhaps that is a good myth to be comforted by. The television commercials make it seem wonderful. The only problem is that it’s a bloody lie.

Reality hits. You realize how much you hate your family. Drunk Uncle Jeff who has one too many egg nogs and pisses his pants. Aunt Bessie who is probably the most selfish person you’ve ever known. Cousin Jeff who likes burning things. Mom complains you never call. Dad tells everyone to pull his finger. Older sister slept with all of your childhood friends, and your younger brother is esconsed away in his third stint in rehab. And lord knows how many packages of tube socks and droopy drawers you’ll receive.

And all of your friends on Facebook who post messages and pictures of hope and joy are just fucking liars who have no soul and probably are closeted serial killers.

It’s a nightmare, and unfortunately the Lakers will not give you a couple of hours of solace.