Once you reach voting age, Christmas should really only be about settling painful scores on the one day you know everybody will be in the same place. Anything else and you’re only denying justice to your enemies – or “family” as they prefer.
The Queens-based philosopher, Frank Costanza, called it The Airing of Grievances, and if performed with enough vitriol, should earn you first-ballot consideration in the tradition that comes after: Feats of Strength; a chance to wrestle and subdue your enemy (or enemies, if you’re a real cunt), further asserting dominion over those who claim you wronged them, or bringing about a rich and creamy justice to those who you feel wronged you.
It is 10pm; the hour is almost at hand.
Tonight I will fight my Uncle Jonesy in the street, the absolute bastard. Jonesy said some unkind things about me in the early 90s and I haven’t forgotten. This all preceded his descent into battery and, later, murder, and I suppose there is extra guilt there because I feel somehow responsible. Jonesy now suffers from seizures so there’s never been a better time to claim his scalp.
If there is time, I will also attempt to strike Grandma because she once said Mos Def was a “racket”.
Happy Festivus, everybody x