Neglect and Depravity

Dear Diary,

It is, yet again, another dreary day for Grandpa Chaun. It seems as though my family has moved on to much better, more important things in life. Some days, I sit in my rocking chair and stair outside at the drizzle bouncing off the pavement, fogging up the windows.

It isn't easy being grandpappy. This family's neglect of Grandpa C has left me to resort to nostalgic writings of the past. I now leave you with a tear-soaked entry that I once wrote to my beloved Chaunsons during Christmas; it was a lonely holiday for me.


In the spirit of the Christmas season, I thought I'd write a little bit about the obscurity of the concept Christmas trees. What's up with them? Today, we'll be going to get a Christmas tree. But why? When the Christmas season approaches, do humans have some sort of biological ticker that goes off that tells them to go outside, hack down a tree, and shove it through their door? What is it about Christmas that makes us want to take some massive plant and put it in our living room? Why do we feel the need to risk covering our face and hands in sap and pine needles to stand a tree up in front of our window, as if to boast to the world that we killed a living organism that couldn't move, couldn't fight back, or couldn't give us the verbal lashing we deserve when we referred to it as "scrawny," "bare," and "stubby"? Do you think a human would be willing to stand in your living room in a bucket of water for over a month if you told him he was scrawny and stubby?? NO!!! He'd shove a pinecone down your throat for being a pumpbag!

We assume that plants don't have the ability to think, simply because they lack the central nervous system that the animal kingdom has. But how do we know the tree doesn't use it's xylem and phloem to produce thoughts and emotions? If the tree had the physical ability to speak its mind, I'm sure it would tell you straight up what it thinks of you. And if the tree had the physical ability to fight you, I'm sure it would. Have you ever fought a tree? It's not easy. Think about getting into a fight with a telephone pole. A telephone pole that throws pins at you. Doesn't sound like much fun, does it? You could try to shoot it, but the bullets would simply create holes, pissing the tree (and telephone pole) off even more. You'd get slapped in the face left and right. Branches would be coming out of nowhere, puncturing your skin with millions of blood-soaked needles. And once that tree had chopped your sorry, pruny rump to the ground, it'd be standing over you like the giant, coniferous warrior that it is, spewing out comments about how much it wants to jam a ceramic star or angel in the top of your head. It would say "Hey you little grublet. I'm going to find some frumpy, putzy looking ornaments and jab their little hangers into your skin. I'm going to take 12 year old candy canes that have been slobbered on by your dog and hang them from your chubby little fingers. Or how about I wrap you in Christmas lights and shove presents between your legs?" If you don't think a tree would say this to you, think again. It's probably tired of standing next to the wall, watching you make out with your girlfriend, or friend from the bar who happens to be a fighter pilot/musician, on the couch.

Why trees? Why not a Christmas squirrel? Maybe **** has the right idea. **** is taking in two wild squirrels who scamper around the porch of her apartment. Maybe she is defying all Christmas tradition and attempting to reconstruct a different one. And maybe we should all be doing this. When the holidays roll around, why don't we attempt to catch a squirrel and bring him into the house? We could paint him assorted colors and watch the Super Troopers on the big screen in our basement with him. He could put back a couple beers, whip up some protein shakes in the magic bullet, jam on the keys, and engage in typical conversation about farts, poop, work, and Joe's bizarre obsession with A.A. Then, when Christmas came, we could skewer him and serve him with some dumplings on top of a Christmas casserole.

Why doesn't this happen? What do elves, trees, deer with horns, and a fat old man with a red velvet suit have to do with Christmas??? NOTHING! Truthfully, it all sounds like X-Rated movie to me. That being said, we're probably going to get a Christmas tree today. I am a sellout.

I am a human vortex right now. I feel like my energy is centralized and it's pulling everything into the middle of my torso. And my head. All external, physical matter is being stretched into a 5-D form, and it's stemming from my body. But from a bystander's perspective, it looks like it's just sitting there in a squished, stretched blur, kinda like salt water taffy. It would look like a million roots stemming from myself. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I feel like a black hole. Even objects across this building feel my gravitational pull, and will eventually succumb to the power of my being imploding on itself. Eventually I will capture all forms of energy into a massive, dense ball and I will be powerful enough to consume the earth's consistency as well as the universe. Once I've engulfed the universe, I'll simply be a big black blob in white space. I'll look like an inkblot on a piece of printer paper. Whatever beings exist in this dimension will simply think I am a scribble mark to cover up a mistake they made, and they'll throw me away. By this point, I'll be in 12-D and will have encompassed all time grids and spacial modalities. I'll have created my own dimension in which certain matters exist not in the physical sense that we see now, but as what we call figments of imagination. But I am real. I am very real. I am the thought in your head. Because I pulled matter from Medtronic into my core, I eventually became a real, existing entity, which you consider only to be a thought in your head. But I exist. And it's because I took some ritalin and drank some coffee.