Tuesday, December 25, 2018

Christmas Crackers and Pudding, American Style


Christmas Day 2018.

It's a mostly cloudy, chilly (42F), quiet day. There's no snow, of course: It doesn't snow in Washington, D.C., at Christmas time. EVER.

I'm spending it by myself, which is fine with me. I'll call my dad a bit later. I will not be contacting my mother this holiday season.

A Ralph Lauren (??) window display along Wisconsin Ave, Georgetown, Washington, D.C., 7:25 p.m. Dec 24, 2018

Who comes up with this shit as display ideas??

*******

Yesterday, I left my apartment around 6 p.m. and walked in the chilly, tranquil evening of Christmas Eve over to Georgetown. (Parts of D.C. tend to be semi-deserted and quite quiet right at Christmas time.) I walked through Georgetown and went to Clyde's, where I had dinner at the bar. The place was fairly busy and the experience pleasant enough.

The bar area at Clyde's restaurant, Georgetown, Washington, D.C., 7:33 p.m. Dec 24, 2018

*******

Later, on my walk back, I went to Fox & Hound, where I met Gary and a friend of his, before heading home. Actually, prior to going to F&H, I went to St. Matthew's Cathedral. It was about 9 p.m., and I thought I'd give Christmas Eve mass (or at least part of it) a try.

However, I simply couldn't stand being there, and not just because of the usual frickin' gauntlet of over-friendly but aggressive adult male panhandlers who basically live on the outdoor steps.

The bar area at Clyde's restaurant, Georgetown, Washington, D.C., 7:34 p.m. Dec 24, 2018

*******

The whole experience of going to a church is just a big nothingness for me. Any faith or belief I once had -- whether specifically Catholic, more generally "Judeo-Christian," or even spiritual (i.e., there's some Loving Anthropomorphic Entity that Rules / Micromanages the Observable Universe) is gone.

Homeless guy asleep in area of a bank along M Street NW, Georgetown, Washington, D.C., 8:23 p.m. Dec 24, 2018

*******

The Cathedral was semi-crowded, and sitting (for about two minutes) in that pew way to the corner, I felt like I was in a TV studio audience. I should note that the same Rector of the Church is there -- now for about 35 years, maybe more. I remember him back in the mid-to-late '90s when I used to hang out there. Typical Baby Boomer -- they never go away.

When I got home, I posted an entry. However, around 7 a.m., I did something I almost never do and completely removed (deleted) it. While the subject of my ire -- a certain Catholic priest who seeks to be the Archbishop of Washington, if not the Pope -- is worthy of such vitriol, I changed my mind about posting it.

OK, that's all for now. I need to find some place open on Christmas to get dinner.

I'm going to try to post another entry tonight. I need to get home by about 9:30 p.m. and be in bed by 12:30 a.m. I have my oral surgeon appointment tomorrow to get the remainder of my lower left wisdom tooth extracted. I knew the whole affair was going to be a difficult one.

What I'm unsure of is how difficult (and thus expensive) the procedure will be tomorrow, but I'm not anticipating going into work.

I've been taking an antibiotic and gargling with hydrogen peroxide to ward off any potential infection.

I've decided that I need a new dentist.

The one I have just has too much of a temper, and I don't like the treatment I got. But I don't really want to talk about this right now.

As I've been composing this entry, I came across this AP political article: Trump's coalition cracking over his policies and personality.

It features this picture of Michael Bernstein:

Who is Michael Bernstein, you may ask? Why, he's a fucking Trump voter who will be "proud" to vote for Trump again in 2020.

This is the kind of downwardly immobile, dumbass American goober who, every 4 years, ensures that some GOP shithole wins the presidency, thanks to the Electoral College.

Michael Bernstein. American fucking idiot.

Honestly, I hate even have to be in the same country as these Trumpkins -- much less having to read these political "safari" stories featuring their supposed homespun Heartland wisdom.

One last Christmas item:

While I received text messages from about five different individuals wishing me Merry Christmas, Chris T's message wins the award for distinction. Chris is in Philadelphia (from Atlanta) visiting his elderly mother (who runs a neighborhood bar in North Philadelphia). He wrote the following:

Everybody in this city looks like they are on crystal meth.

Merry Christmas.

--Regulus

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