Black Friday shoppers pushy, rowdy at Gurnee Mills.
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull only $8.99!
The Black Friday Survival Guide
Worker dies at Wal-Mart after being trampled in Black Friday stampede.
Photo Gallery: Terrorists Strike in Mumbai
Sears’ website crashes after being trampled by heavy traffic.
Long before the war, which started after the invasion of the SANTA CLONE ARMY, Christmas Village lived in capitalistic Christian congruity. But soon tough times came for all of those of Christmas Village….
First the economy collapsed. It wasn’t pretty. Dozens were out of work. DOZENS! Then Christmas Village lost its primary source of income - the railroad. This was a blow to the tiny town. Christmas Village imported almost all of its goods and a large majority of income was the exporting of fake snow. Without the railroad all importing and exporting ceased. On the day the last train departed Christmas Village, the conductor, known only as Jeff, left these parting words:
Uhh Bonnie, I’m hungry.
One can only assume that the departing cryptic message meant that Jeff was indeed hungry. Hungry for a new life away Christmas village; for a new life where he would be appreciated. Toon Town perhaps…
Now without a means of income or transportation, Christmas Village found itself cutoff from the outside world. The townsfolk were jobless and broke. They soon found themselves homeless too as many of them took to living on the snowy streets of Christmas Village. Then disaster struck… in the form of the beast….
On Christmas Eve (every night is Christmas Eve) a monster nearly 1/4 the size of the entire town trampled through the streets of Christmas Village. The beast, known only as “Soxzilla,” toppled shops and houses like mere toys. The beast ate up all the turkey at the deli and knocked over two of the three churches. The drugstore was reduced to nothing more than ruble. And as if the catastrophic destruction wasn’t enough, the beast took a giant shit on town square. But at least he buried it.
Then suddenly the beast ran off, never to return again…
The townspeople lost everything. With no railroad they were cut off. The only thing they could do was wait. Wait for help. Wait for refuge. So the townsfolk gathered at the Christmas Dome. Surely someone would come. Soon. But no one did….
Nearly a week after the disaster help still had not arrived. The townsfolk couldn’t understand why no one from neighboring Kwanzaa Kastle would come to their aid. They were alone…
Slowly the townsfolk picked up the ruins of their city. They tried to put their lives back together. They started over.
A few months later things had started to reach some level of normalcy. Christmas Village was nowhere near what it used to be but at least they had each other. That’s when the United Santas invaded Christmas Village.
The Santa Clone Army was ruthless. They were without Ruth. Nightly reindeer bombings destroyed what was left of Christmas Village. The few that were left could only fight. Thus was born the insurgency.
The insurgency was futile but it disoriented the Santas. But the Santa Clone Army was relentless. Crushing all of those who stood in their way or stayed up late. The voice of the Santas rang out through the crumbled streets of Christmas Village warning the townspeople that they better watch out, that they better not cry, and, for goodness sake, that they better be good.
In the end the insurgency was able to put up a fight. They were greatly outnumbered but they had Christmas on their side. With a little hope the townsfolk of Christmas Village would prevail. The United Santas were like, “Fuck that!” And a Rudolph-guided nuke decimated the entire town. KABOOM!
Here we have Sir Whitesox Cat begging for some of Matthew Ganucheau’s pot pie.. No Whitesox. That’s a bad kitty. NO WHITESOX THAT IS MATT’S POT PIE!
This is also the cutest picture of Whitesox EVAR.
In The House that Christmas Threw Up In Bonnie has a pillow that hangs in the kitchen. One side says naughty, the other nice. Bonnie always keeps it on nice. Ryan always flips it to naughty. Poetic? And how!
I’m cheating today. This picture was not taken today. It was taken a few days ago. It’s just too good to not share. Here you see Sir Whitesox Cat actually trampling through Bonnie’s Christmas Village.
My last night in Baton Rouge I decided to play “Where’s Baby Jesus?” by moving the ceramic Baby Jesus various places around Bonnie’s House. Sacrilicious!
I always joke about people who claim to have found Jesus. One time on a date this girl told me that she “found Jesus.” I told her that I didn’t know Jesus was lost. Then I asked her if he was in the pantry.
It’s these reasons why for day three of my phlog {photo+log=phlog} I evicted Baby Jesus from the nativity set located inside “the house that Christmas threw up in” and moved him over to the pantry for my mother to find. This time, she really found Jesus.
Czech out each day’s photos here.
I’m ganking this idea from Matt. Basically I’m going to try and take a new picture everyday. Nothing in particular just something that catches mine eye. Mayhaps there will be an accompanying story, mayhaps not.
I thought for the first picture I should include something from my trip home to Baton Rouge. Here is Sir Whitesox Cat standing in the middle of Bonnie’s Xmas village. Enjoy.
