I am convinced that there is something profoundly wrong with people that write and widely disseminate holiday newsletters. If you have never had the pleasure of receiving one of these personally -- consider yourself deeply blessed.
I just got one from my aunt the other day. It's a real doozy too. At first blush, you can't help but notice that she went to considerable lengths to create a special holiday experience for her readership. Take the paper for example -- she didn't use plain white paper -- no siree! She hand-selected a faux-antique Christmas stationary upon which to spew forth her familial dissertation. This, no doubt, ensured the appropriate mixture of nostalgia, authenticity and importance. Actually, it is mildly reminiscent of the tasteless paper used to replicate old documents like the Declaration of Independence or the Constitution. Just looking at it pissed me off. Then, against my better judgment, I actually read it. Doing so removed all doubt that my aunt needs to be heavily medicated and/or institutionalized if not just outright shot.
Allow me to share a couple key segments of her holiday essay with all of you. Of course, I've changed the names to protect the innocent and most importantly, prevent these people from being identified as any of my close relatives. My brilliant aunt writes:
"We spend most of our time with our immediate family. To start with Diane [and her two children] moved in with us the day after Christmas last year and they are still with us. Diane and Matthew's divorce was final August 7th. Diane [a former school teacher] hadn't taught for 15 years, so she went back to college this last summer to get re-certified as a teacher. She taught the 6th grade at a charter school in Detroit until she resigned last week. So, she is substituting for the schools in the area. Other than that, everything is going well for Diane and the kids."
Allow me to paraphrase here: "Because of massive undisclosed marital problems, Diane dumped Matthew the day after Christmas last year and moved into our home with her children. It's costing us a small fortune. We really hate it but are nonetheless doing a remarkable job pretending. We can't believe that she finally got off of her ass and found a job but can't say that we were really surprised when she abruptly quit. What a loser. Hopefully Diane will get her shit together and get the hell out of our home in 2009."
Here is yet another dose of holiday cheer:
"Our oldest granddaughter, Stephanie (34) and her husband Jake live in Podunk, MI. Their daughter Peggy (our great-granddaughter) has poor circulation in her hands and feet and a reoccurring kidney infection since she was born 1 yr. 3 months ago. Stephanie and Jake work hard to make sure that she is monitored and kept healthy which causes an occasional hospital visit. She is having surgery after the first of the year to correct the problem."
Again, allow me to paraphrase: "Peggy is all fucked up. No one knows what's really wrong with this child. Hopefully, they can figure it out soon because hearing about all of the hospital visits are becoming a real pain in the ass. Welcome to life kid. It's a bitch. And, by the way, there is no such thing as Santa Clause. You might as well accept it now. We hope that 2009 is less shitty for you than was 2008. Oh yea . . . Merry Christmas."
Luckily, (for her), my aunt didn't include me in her holiday tidings. And it's a damn good thing too. Truth is, I really don't talk to or see these people -- save for the occasional funeral -- so why I am on the holiday distribution list is totally lost on me . . .
But in case my aunt doesn't quite get it, let me be very clear:
If, in between holiday newsletters, I don't use the phone, Morse Code, smoke signals, hieroglyphics, or a singing telegram to contact you . . . I DON'T GIVE A FUCK WHAT 'S GOING ON IN YOUR LIFE!
