I read the news today, oh boy. Time for a Christmas holiday.

Are ya like me? Does Christmas put you in the mind of an earlier time? At Christmas time do you spontaneously harken back to a simpler time, remembering, say, old Beatles songs — perhaps yearning for a Stewie’s time machine? I mean just for a week or so — a fella does need his wifi. I’m pretty sure I’m not alone. It’s not a mere coincidence that so many Christmas cards and graphics focus on “the olden days.” (For those of you who are younger than 50, the “Beatles” were a pop music group before popular music started sounding nasty, angry, dark and dismal, revolving around the n-word, blathering about life-shattering angst (like “oh ma life is not even like perfect cuz o’ da haters, dog!”), and droning on about the importance of getting laid eight times per week.)

I always do this… I start my days off, then multiple days into it, I write a short post at PTBC saying the obvious, that I’m on holiday. And as usual, I’m never really on total holiday. I do read the news. For example, I read the news today, oh boy (). And I look at the state-owned CBC News (so you don’t have to). It’s painful. It’s all horrible. The left and its various media divisions are all having a group orgasm over Omicron — they should have called it Orgasmicron. That’s when I remind myself: I’m on holiday, damn it! And then my mind drifts into the beforetimes.

(Christmas gift-buying tip: I subscribe to a newsletter by HumanProgress.org and it’s all about good news. Good news in tech, in medicine, in engineering, and politics, and so on. Hint: the latest newsletter had the subject line: “Debunking Woke Oppression Narratives”. Get yourself a free (free!) Christmas present and subscribe. And it’s not “fabrique en Chine!”)

I do check my PTBC email because I like self-abuse like that. That’s not to say there aren’t great emails too (thanks Joe for the $$contribution!$$); and I am known to even ditch the holiday and write a scathing article or two, depending on how outraged I am at reading whatever I’m reading. I mean beyond my usual level of outrage, which is often turned up to eleven even on a Sunday. So you see, I need a holiday.

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