“A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!”, cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Scrooge’s nephew, who came upon him so quickly that this was the first intimation he had of his approach.
“Bah!”, said Scrooge. “Humbug!”
He had so heated himself with rapid walking in the fog and frost, this nephew of Scrooge’s, that he was all in a glow; his face was ruddy and handsome; his eyes sparkled, and his breath smoked again.
“Christmas a humbug, uncle?”, said Scrooge’s nephew. “You don’t mean that, I am sure?”
“I do”, said Scrooge. “‘Merry Christmas’! What right have you to be merry? What reason have you to be merry? You’re poor enough.”
“Come, then”, returned the nephew gaily. “What right have you to be dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You’re rich enough.”
Clunkline’s 2 year anniversary and 1,000th article are coming up, and Tanz wants the two to coincide.
So, my gift to you is this article to bump the counter that much closer to number 1,000.
Merry Christmas, don’t expect me to get you anything else.
And I hope you got me something nice and/or expensive.
I got you an electric dildo I found in my neighbor’s garbage. The batteries are still inside but I think the acid is leaking. Merry Christmas to you too! -Tanz
Okay, so here’s a thought: There is no past nor is there a future. The entire universe exists only for a single instant and our perceptions of a past merely result from the configuration of the current world.
Think about it, the only proof of the existence of the past is the configuration of current items such as the email your girlfriend sent to break up with you, the note on the roses you sent her, or the text of the subsequent restraining order. Aside from the deep and crippling emotional pain you live with knowing you will never find love again, all “proof” of the relationship consists of items in the present, items which can be duplicated without having had that “actual” past just as one could doctor your face onto her prom date’s picture and plaster it to the ceiling of your room.
All around the country, news networks spewed forth faux-sentimental non-news and bumpkins around the country had the words “Virginia Tech” and “massacre” drilled together in their heads in a fashion that would make Pavlov proud. Though the anniversary was of a newsworthy event, that did not make it, in and of itself, newsworthy. But that did not stop the networks from exploiting the opportunity to fill white space and airtime with a reminder of a tarnished image that a University longed in vain for people to forget.
Someday, they hoped, someday we will heal. And by heal, they mean, someday again be known, as we once were, for having a very good Engineering department. And that will only happen when people stop hearing the word “massacre” echo in their heads after the words “Virginia Tech”.
