Christmas Squibs

 

The Christmas season used to be more about the return of the sun than the coming of the Son.

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Christmas was once a nice little year end holiday till it got Saints Nickled and Dimed.

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Our fanciful theories are like blow up Santas. Very jolly, till truth comes like a stiletto, leaving them flat on the lawn, fodder for history’s dustbin.

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We now return you to our regularly scheduled squibs.

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Lord have mercy on me, a miserable tax collector. And I’d also like to put in a word for this Pharisee here who’s probably doing it all wrong. 

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The post office posters once wanted criminals. Now they seek workers, MIA. 

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Meme is just a four letter word for fad. 

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Your friend who votes the wrong way may admit his man has done a bad thing, but will never agree that he is a bad man. Just as a New Yorker will never root against the Yankees. 

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Bars don’t like serving breakfast, and if they’re forced to, they do it badly, and charge extra for  their trouble 

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A picture may be worth a thousand words, but if only someone had written a few of those words on the backs of the old family portraits. 

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A true friend will wait for five or six minutes while you scroll, perhaps unsuccessfully, to find the picture he wants to show you.