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Merry Crackmas

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Well, it's that most wonderful time of the year again - truly wonderful only if you are a 1%er, or enjoy buying one hatchimal for the price of 75. It also could be wonderful if you are a kid. I remember Christmases as a child myself, the warm gatherings with food and family, and friends.. well, not so much friends, because I didn't have any; but there was always a lot of really good food. It was even fun to go to church on Christmas; but not nearly as much fun as opening presents. I remember bursting with anticipation as I waited to get home to open the package, the joyous excitement building as I spilled the contents out, the thrill of... wait, these aren't Christmas presents I'm thinking of... It's Crack Cocaine. I easily confuse memories of being a kid on Christmas morning with memories of smoking crack, because the feelings are identical. I guess that's (one of the reasons) why I did drugs. It allowed me to feel things that have been impossible for me to feel since I was a kid. It was like Christmas multiple times a week! But, just like the giddy ecstasy faded as the drug supply did, and morphed into desperation, despair, and an infinite insatiable craving, Christmas always left me crawling on the ground, wailing inwardly in disbelief that the too-long but never-long-enough holiday was over, and refusing to accept my eventual forced return to reality. That is the true meaning of Christmas: A gateway drug.
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On March 13th, 2017 02:06 am (UTC), bohemianlove commented:
Seriously with the hatchimals, though. They're just fucking furbies.
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