I remember defending Limp Bizkit lyrics from people who would say that they were a terrible talentless band. On one occasion, I actually tried to tell someone how we knew the number of times this one song said fuck: “We only know he says it forty-six times because he counts for us.”

There’s a line: “If I say fuck two more times/ that’s forty-six fucks in this fucked up rhyme.” 

Reading that today the number two question on my mind is is he counting the fuck said at the declaration as being before the two more times? Is it in addition to the forty six…Hell maybe he’s not counting it at all as it’s sort of a quotation.

My number one question is how the Hell did I think this was good music?

I kind of have the same feeling with Christmas, right now. How did I ever like this? I can’t remember an amazing Christmas. I can remember decent ones. My brother died a few years ago on Christmas; that’s the thing that sticks out in my mind. Now that I’ve come to terms with not liking large groups of people and there being nothing wrong with that, the whole holiday season presents an entirely different kind of problem for me. I can’t rush out to buy food without encountering herds of people acting in all the ways that the spirit of the season says they shouldn’t.

This opinion that Christmas isn’t all it’s cracked up to be might not be something new, but it is something real. Other than the cold weather, Doctor Who episode, and the longer nights, this time of year is just something I dread and now that it’s here I just want it to be over so that we can resume our regular pattern of whatever it is we do.


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