Sometimes it is almost Thanksgiving and you find yourself listening to a little vintage Snoop Dog and wondering if you are supposed to have a clue what to buy people for Christmas, or you know, Festivus.
And what do I want? I mean, besides anything that has a space kitty print on it, because that is just damn obvious.
I wish that I could just do a bunch of weird shit with everyone instead of buying them things. You know? Maybe spray paint a bunch of poodle prints on the backs on various Republican headquarters with my mother. Make crank calls with my grandmother to various strip clubs. Blind fold my best friend and take him on a petting zoo tour while yelling, “stand back, he’s a prophet! He can find the Antichrist!”
Instead, I will likely purchase some socks with winter animals on them and disperse them amongst loved ones. And there you have it. Another year of bland consumerism. You’re welcome.