|No need to mention where this abomination was spotted (Brampton, Ontario).|
It's the first of December! YAY! When I was a kid, that was a big deal. It meant the gifts were beginning to be wrapped and hidden in various spots around the house, and my brothers and I could begin our sick annual game of finding them, opening the wrapping just enough to see what was inside and then rewrapping them to look EXACTLY like they did before we ruined Mom's efforts to reward us rotten little sh*ts. Looking back, I so wish Mom would have wrapped up two dozen individual lumps of dog turd and just let us stew.
Anyway, now that I've put us all in the mood, I'd like to introduce a fun new seasonal series I call Jesus H. Christmas. In this series, I will select and humiliate various homeowners who have distinguished themselves by having the worst friggin Christmas light display on their street. Maybe even their block. Maybe even their POSTAL CODE. I launch this series with a display I call Green is the Colour of Death by Gangrenous Leg. Whoever did these lights really knocked themselves out.
Middle-aged Bachelor: *on ladder* This is all we got, is one string of green lights?
Roommate: Better than nothin.'
MaB: Where should we put 'em?
Roommate: Wherever they fit.
MaB: *tosses lights toward rooftop* There, how's that?
Roommate: It's kinda hanging down on the side there.
MaB: grumbles, hammers, swears* How 'bout now?
Roommate: It's still kinda . . .
MaB: Ah, it's good enough. I'm freezin.'
Roommate: Me too. Let's go have a beer.