'Tis the Season to Be Comatose (Part 1)

(Pretend I've been faithfully updating my blog for the last four months. Oh man, that one about the almonds was just hilarious, wasn't it?!)

If your family is like mine - or any other American family for that matter - seasonal gatherings more often than not necessitate some form of substance abuse in order to be endured. Each year, as I pull into my sister's driveway, car packed floor-to-ceiling with wrapped packages and food (for whatever the occasion) before I even step foot in the door, that dry, chalky sensation of thirst begins to develop in my mouth. That unmistakable yearning that is the desire to imbibe.

(Note: This is not a "candid" shot, as we might have you believe. This is us actually posing for a picture. We're all completely stoned out of our minds here. Or are we?)

But this is not news. Everyone knows that holidays and narcotics (in any and all of their various forms) go hand in hand, and have for centuries. Take, for instance, the age-old favorite "The Wassail Song." The entire song chronicles the rather romantic English tradition of dousing a cake in spirits, hurling said cake into a tree to be doused again until both the tree and the cake are soaked through with "riot punch" (to quote Always Sunny) only to be set ablaze by a barrage of gunshots fired at the tree, all set to the tune of maniacal screaming, the belligerent banging of pots and pans, and of course "The Wassail Song" itself. This is merely one example of one hard and fast rule that has stood the test of time: the Holidays, by nature, breed sheer, unadulterated lunacy.

Case in point - this unfortunate incident that took place outside of a Wal Mart in Kewaunee, Wisconsin in the name of one of America's most respected Holiday traditions, "Black Friday":

I shouldn't joke. The Lion King is one of my all-time favorite movies. Moreover, the people of Kewaunee whole-heartedly deny that this incident ever took place, despite the evidence stacked against them. Digressions aside, most of us understand (and participate in) the fact that in order to make it through the long season of blue-light-special-induced fits of hysteria, rambling stories told by creepy uncles that everyone has memorized except for uncle, the deluge of giant, fattening 7 course meals that ultimately leads to the spike in Overeaters Anonymous memberships at the start of each New Year, and all of those painfully contrived bouts of smiling chit-chat that populate the holiday months - in order to make it through a season of all of that - we know that we must sedate ourselves. Sedate our very souls.

Why do you think eggnog traditionally contains enough bourbon or brandy in one serving to set your Christmas tree on fire with the convenient strike of a match? It's no coincidence that sales of those deliciously frivolous mini-bottles of alcohol soar during the holiday season. Why? Because any warm-blooded American needs a swig or two to make it through the reading of the "Gospel According to Luke" during Midnight Mass (which, incidentally, begins at 9pm) or your cousin's off-key rendition of "Silent Night."And portable mini-bars are the way to do it.

If all of this sounds rather desperate and strange to you, it's probably because you've been so perfectly inebriated for every holiday season past that you've blacked each and every one of them out, and replaced them instead with a blissfully nebulous, coked-out version of reality. Good work.

Hey, this guy's got the right idea. Why use a confessional to repent for your long list of sins when you can take advantage of the handy privacy it affords you and get wasted while you listen to the muffled carols of proximate church-goers?

Nothing goes better with family dinner conversation than a cocktail, so don't be bashful. We're all in the same whiskey-stocked boat. The sensory overload that is the American Holiday Season necessitates a commitment to haziness. So I say, this year, if you haven't done so already, enjoy the Holiday Season entirely at arm's length, without ever fully engaging in anything other than your own mind-numbing inebriation.