Excuses, excuses.

Things I Learned Today.

I’ve been gone for a while, but don’t take that to mean that I haven’t been thinking about all my tens of fans out there, biting their nails in anticipation of my blogging. The first hurdle to my posting was The Bruce suggesting in a post of his own just before Christmas that it was unlikely that any posts would be put up between then and New Year’s. This was an obvious faux pas on his part; to suggest that I needn’t post for a given length of time was merely an invitation to laziness that I just couldn’t pass up. Furthermore, the holiday season proved to be busier and more filled with adventure than I had previously expected, so the opportunity to relate the epic of elucidation that may have occurred to me in those festive hours escaped with the whimsy of Father Christmas. Lastly, I left the all-important power cord to my laptop sitting on an end table at my parents’ house, leaving me with just enough juice left in the old girl to check my email once and usher me off into the oblivion of disconnected bliss. Today, a week later, my power cord finally arrived via UPS after a several-day closure of the mountain passes in our fair state that delayed the arrival of this article to an even greater extent.

“What could Mein Schatz have been doing all this time?” you might ask with a reasonable degree of expectation. Well, the answer is learning, learning. I learned that facial hair serves an excellent purpose when trying to imitate our Lord and Savior Alvis upon that holiest of feast days, the Feast of Alvis, which was celebrated for the sixth consecutive year among my group of devout and loyal followers. I am still rocking a pretty killer mustache I adopted for the event, and I think I will keep it until it starts to get really annoying, whether that be to myself or others I’m not yet sure. For those of you not familiar with the Feast of Alvis, I would turn your attention to the holy tome of inspired writ known as Sealab 2021, a cartoon that ran on the Cartoon Network from December 2000 until April 2005 and continues to air in the form of reruns late at night. I will spare you the theology and history of the Feast of Alvis, but will share with you its tenants, of which there are a simple four:

1) Thou shalt engorge one’s self of copious amounts of ham of the baked variety.
2) Thou shalt partake in the scotch, whiskey, and rye, until such time as we are fighting drunk.
3) Thou shalt celebrate unabashedly with all extemporaneous pomp.
4) Thou shalt smite all those who deserve to be smited and all those who do not deserve to be smited with spontaneous and glorious revenge.

Suffice it to say, this holiday has often ended with its share of tears, vomit, and bloodshed. But the festivities, which are, when at all possible, celebrated on 26 December to take advantage of any post-Christmas gifts of cash for the benefit of the whiskey and ham fund, were surprisingly mild this year.

Perhaps it’s because the bashes have been growing considerably more violent to the point of discouraging wives and girlfriends from joining in. But this year I didn’t take my pants off once and was only sucker punched in the kidneys or genitals once, as far as I remember. Although I did learn that ranch dressing can be difficult to remove from an ammunition bag.

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