I am very much the person who rolls their eyes when they hear Christmas music in November.  I also shudder when I see those giant inflatable snowglobes/Santas/reindeer on people’s lawns.  If I happen to find myself in a place like Wal-Mart or Costco or some other retail establishment that could house a good portion of the metro area’s homeless, my chest tightens up at the sheer acreage of decorations bound to spend at least 9 months of each year in boxes.  It’s not that I’m a Grinch, I just think the consumption-of-useless-goods rate during the holiday season is obnoxious and gross, and I think that if people donated the money they used to purchase a full-sized replica of Santa’s sleigh powered by hundreds of dollars in electricity bills from early November until January, the world might be a better place.  Fuck your Zhu Zhu Pets, kids, there are starving children in your own country.

(Speaking of Zhu Zhu Pets, the Target gift catalog arrived (unrequested) in the mail the other day and one of the featured gifts is a Zhu Zhu Pets Battledome.  Like kids have these cute hamster robots from when their parents beat the crap out of some soccer mom last year, and now they’re supposed to kill one another for control of Barter Town.  Christmas is fucking insane.)

But like I said, I’m not a Grinch.  I appreciate things like goodwill and twinkly lights and a reasonable amount of glitter.  I’m a total sucker for the Johnny Mathis Christmas album (Elvis Presley’s “Blue Christmas” is number two).  And I recently bought this:

Just in case you couldn’t see the top very clearly:

Why yes, that is a purple Christmas tree with a peacock topper!  Isn’t it the greatest?  With the red walls in my dining room, it’s like Christmas in a whorehouse over here!  This is the tag that came with the peacock:

Heeee!  Christmas Safari!  I don’t know about you guys, but when I think of Jesus’ birth, I think of going on safari.  Specifically accompanied by Val Kilmer circa Ghost In the Darkness, but without that terrible Irish accent.  Or, you know, man-eating lions.

I can’t wait for people to come over and see the bitchinest Christmas tree ever.  I don’t even care that it’s not Thanksgiving yet.  In this house, we don’t celebrate religion.  We celebrate parties and booze and delicious food and slutty foliage made of Chinese plastics.  Happy Early Holidays, everyone.  You can leave Val Kilmer under the whorehouse tree.