This, my first American Christmas season, has without a shadow of a doubt been the most materialistic, gluttonous, indulgent, deceitful, prozac-induced, commercial, forced, colorful, plastic, spoilt, exuberant, paganistic, delusional, raw, contrasted, conflicted, memorable, orchestrated, amorphous, hip-hop, pre-pubescent, glorious, conquestuous, stupendous, orgiastic, politically-correct, hilarious, covered in mayonnaise and begging for mercy at gunpoint holiday I have ever experienced in my two-score years on God/Allah/Shiva/Other (please explain)'s green earth.
And I fucking loved it. Thanks, gods (and 'esses - M, I'm looking at you). . .
