Back when I was forced to join all the other pre-Christmas zombies as we jostled around the marble-lined, suburban mausoleums (mausoleii?) in search of expensive items that people won't even use, let alone want, I used to think that the pre-Chrissy build-up was contrived by sharp-suited, elusive hawkers of corporate consumerism, way up there in their untouchable glass towers, and was a phenomenon over which we had absolutely no control. And yet, even in this land of alleged non-materialistic, humanitarian, respect-to-all-living-beings society, here I find myself, the week before Christmas, busier than a $2 whore on pocket-money night!
And what's more, even over the frosty, impenetrable Himalayas, in this more-or-less exclusively Buddhist land, the consumerist Christmas still manages to protrude it's big, shiny, jolly, red snoz into one's business, as I discovered just a couple of nights ago when I was forced to make an emergency dash out into the chilly night for a packet of peanut butter and chocolate Oreos (Gawd, how good are those things?). It's certainly pretty hard not to get just a little cynical about Christmas when propped on an escalator in a monolithic, Chinese owned and operated supermarket in the middle of Tibet, and as you crest the stainless-steel horizon, you are faced with a huge, brightly-coloured sign wishing you a Happy Thanksgiving, above which is perched a fully-decorated and sparkling Christmas tree, winking it's merry lights, flirtatiously as it entices you with its bounty of cleverly-wrapped yak jerky!
If ever the purists needed some rock-solid evidence that the Spirit of Christmas Present, after having been out on an eleven-and-a-half month romp of debauched depravity during which he'd lost the plot in his own putrid pool of Christmas sherry-induced vomit, and was now fully out to corrupt the unsuspecting masses, then this was it.
So anyway, I've got two days to go in which to complete two months of work; reports, plans, ass-kicking, ass-licking and so forth, and then I'll be off into the Big Blue, and on my way to kiss Mrs Donkey on a pristine, tropical beach, beneath the swishing, swaying palms of Goa.
It's been a very strange six months for Donkey in Blogland; not being able to enjoy all your wonderful thoughts and talents, but I have still been flattered when I peek through the internet-keyhole to see who's been visiting, and I am especially thankful to all you regulars; Pub Man, Sabyj, Lived Legna, The Editor, Cakey, Kate S*, Gouda, Loosey, Pomgirl and new-comers Boarking and Ann O'Dyne. To all of you, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, Happy Eid-Ul-Adha, whatever your persuasion ... and whatever your poison, make sure you get plenty of it into you over the next couple of weeks.
Now that's what I call the real spirit of Christmas. Pic: http://snacks.cyberpunks.org/oreo-peanutbutter.gif
* Sorry Kate, I couldn't locate your link - but look her up in the comments...