Yuletide Technicolor Champions
I gave into neighborhood holiday peer-pressure last night and went out and bought some holiday lighting ‘flair’ to give the Ranch a more festive appeal. After this last weekend we were the only house on our side of the street that wasn’t representing some kind of holiday cheer. We were the one dark house – the lightening display scrooge of the community.

Lately we’ve been having some epic fog up here on the hill. The effect of the erie supernatural fog and the holiday lights combine to make a blurry translucent yuletide scene that’s more reminiscent of a Hollywood Christmas slasher movie then a Bing Cosby ‘White Christmas’. This is a new experience for someone who hails from the land of ice and snow.

To procure the lighting display, I had to brave a Target Store last night that was brimming with freakish masses of screaming little urchins. Every aisle was another gauntlet run through childhood discontentment. It was as if they were all in cahoots with another. Like they had organized a plan before hand with one little kid running around giving secret hand signals that indicated to the other kids specifically what level of tantrum they should throw and the sonic pitch that their screaming should attain. Exhausted parents were seen crumpled in the aisles crying softly to themselves. Others, with more energy, grabbed whatever shiny objects were nearest and attempted to hypnotize their baby with furiously spastic promenades. It was altogether surrealistic and borderline magical.

Looking for some good Christmas music to throw on the Hi-Fi? I highly recommend Christmas with the Rat Pack (Sammy Davis kills on this one), Esquivel’s Merry Xmas From the Space-Age Bachelor Pad, and John Fahey’s Christmas Record.