Rambling...

Finally a chill in the air. A slight snap. Breeze. Then the impending doom rises up. The Fucking Holidays are comin'.

Now Halloween? Love it. Thanksgiving? Food, friends? Great, but Christmas, or the Holidays? Here we go again. Back during the days post Early Divorce, I was known as the Catsitter of the Western World. I was staying in town, love my furry brothers and sisters, and needed something to do, so it was kibble and mistletoe for me and them.

When I was married a few years back to the soon to be Ex, we developed an unbeatable system. We'd throw a huge marathon party, 12 hours, noon to midnight. It would range from intimate chats, sort of the Mike Douglas Show with wassail, to full blown 40/50 people crammed into 5 rooms eating, chatting, eating, mingling, eating, drinking, eating, or watching holiday movies in the back room. And eating.

So once the party was over, dishes done, cats unpacked, the holidays were OVER. We could glide, guilt free, to the New Year, flitting from party to party that ranged from Hallmark to De Sade, give each other gifts on the 24Th, or get on a plane to the (then) happiest place on earth, Las Vegas.

Back then, Ho-ho-ho had a different connotation, the only jingling you heard was the slots, and the only Jolly Fat men were from Duluth or Nyack and wore Sans-a-belt plaid. Add some 'All-U-Can-Eat' Alaska King Crab legs, Krispy Kreme, and bread pudding? Bliss. At least in the late '90's it was.

As usual, things had to go bad. Vegas had turned from a place for adults to a sandy Santaland between visits. Bells, Trees, Holly and that red suited fat bastard followed us there the last Holiday Season we went, specifically to avoid such candy-cane platitudes. And kids, kids, kids... yeek.

Now that the economic screws have tightened a wee bit they've realized that 'lil Jimmy isn't going to blow his allowance on Pai-Gow Poker. It's become a place of sin again, but corporate sin. It's all flow charts and focus groups, of cost cutting and overpriced shows. Beans being counted and bottom line. Robotic. Cold.

We need a new Vegas, a new version of sin city. I mean, grown-ups need a place on this planet too. We watch TV, we need to blow off steam in the public arena. I watched Scorsese's 'Casino' a few nights back. Back then, they knew how to entice people, seduce people, it had a human touch to vice.

The whole thing of childproofing the world? Yea, I get the other side, but isn't in that the realm of VChip? Of, oh, parental supervision? You squirted them out, maybe you should take the time to instill some of your own values in them instead of trying to take over society, media, television, libraries and trying to dull the world down as your own meager ranges and lives.

Seeing kids armored up like they're they're auditoning for American Gladiator to go roller skating? Come on. Yea, I know. If I had my own I'd feel different. But there's some kind of value to mistakes, isn't there? Lessons on what not to do?

As a kid, we skated and biked, and when one of the pack landed on his face it became a rite of passage, a valuable learning experience, and it also opened a whole world of nickname possibilities. 'Hey, Cyclops! Throw the ball to Three Fingers! Gimpy Cho's trying for third..!"

We survived. We took chances. We take chances now.