I hope everyone had a very Merry Christmas yesterday. I celebrated in the typical Jewish manner of movies and Chinese food. However, I decided to rent movies, as my apartment was in dire need of cleaning. It has gone unchecked for the past few months while I have been studying for the LSAT, and such, and it’s beginning to look like a crack den, what with the empty 2 liter bottles of soda, and the discarded pizza boxes strewn across my living room floor. It’s a mess, folks. But it’s improving. At least I made a dent in it.

I think.

Anyway, I rented “The Emperor’s Club” and “The Quiet American,” both of which I accidentally missed during their theatrical runs. They were both quite good, and I definitely recommend both of them for your viewing pleasure.

I think the thing that I will miss most about Christmas-time now that has passed, is the music. That’s right; I am a closet Christmas music fan. Not the schlock like Johnny Mathis, or “Elvis sings Christmas.” I’m talking about the great stuff.

My all time favorite Christmas song? Band Aid’s “Do they know it’s Christmas?” Yep, the collection of socially-conscious 80’s Brit-pop artists who were not to be outdone by USA for Africa. Their stellar tribute to the hungry still gets airplay almost twenty years later. (It was released in 1984.) How often so you hear “We are the world” on the radio?

Exactly.

Thank God for the synthesizer. Without it, the song would be nothing. The haunting bells, and faux-drumming completely set the tone for the sound of Bono’s voice as he sings, “Tonight thank God it’s them instead of youuuuuuu.” Arguably, the most cynical lyric ever written. However my favorite performance in the song is when George Michael finishes his few lines, and Simon LeBon croons, “But when you're having fun/

There's a world outside your window…” Spine tingling, indeed.

So I didn’t get a flu shot this year. In fact, I never get a flu shot. Back in May when my now former company was offering them, I passed. I got a flu shot one year, and I still got the flu. Fuck the flu. And fuck the flu shot. The flu ain’t shit.

And now I have a cold.

I’m sneezing like a mofo. I can’t edit this entry ‘cause my eyes are all teary. I’m coughing like I smoke eighteen packs a day. I’m in a bad, bad way, folks.

And now I’m scared. This cold is only a harbinger of the flu. This cold is the flu’s emissary, standing before me with a crooked finger pointing to my face saying, “You little bitch. It’s coming for you, motherfucker. Son of Jor-El, kneel before Zod! Muahahahaha!”

My tissues look like Rorschach ink blots. Oh this one looks like a frog holding a dagger. Yeah, I broke down and bought tissues. McDonald’s napkins sure hold a lot of snot, but they chafe the insides of my nostrils like...like... (Sorry, I feel too poorly to think up a witty metaphor. Pity me.)

So I’m drinking lots of water. Keeping myself hydrated. Praying that my white blood cells are training like Sugar Shane Mosely, getting ready to go twelve rounds of war on the flu. C’mon guys! Fight dirty. Low blows are allowed in this contest. And I swear, on my fever-ridden waking dreams, that I shall kick the shit out of the flu when it comes for me.

READ THESE JOURNALS Uncle Bob SaraH

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