Holiday Windbags

It’s that time of year when people string lights, trim garland, decorate trees, and go visually crazy with their seasonal efforts. And then there’s That Asshole.

He shuns the mess of tangled lights, eschews the tedious holly placement and heads straight for the Christmas yard inflatable…the fucking Jiffy Pop of the holiday season. That Asshole doesn’t care that the incessant hum of his inflation fan can be heard for two blocks in any direction like a fighter jet idling in the driveway. Nope. He completed his decorating in the time it took to finish a Marlboro so fuck you, fellow homeowners.

And it’s even more endearing when he turns his lawn into the goddamned Vegas Strip. LED strings, spotlights and inflatables with moving parts that spin, dance, or sing -- all moving in no unison whatsoever. That Asshole couldn’t care less that it’s causing PTSD to all of those within repetitive, never-ending earshot. It also doesn’t give him a moment’s pause that the beacon of light his yard emits is causing aircraft to redirect to other airports. No way. He’s got the Christmas spirit, and you can all suck it.

So, here’s to That Asshole. His glowing Santa blow-up doll will wave, dance, blind and creep out the neighbors’ children for years to come. Next time you see him, give him a heartfelt, “Thanks, Asshole!”

As long as we're on the subject of yuletide madness...