I haven’t been writing here, because all of my meager, measly gray matter was going to one line. I was trying to think of something, anything, anything beyond the seasonal “Fuck you, I’m tired,” to slap on a Christmas card.

Of course, clever fuck that I am, I likes to make my own cards. So, in addition to hauling out the holly, I was busting out the Photoshop. Here are my lead rejects. My original “vision,” and by vision I mean self-important, self-appointed artistic bullshit, was to have annual frolicking antics with M. and me. But, M. in an empty room is in some pseudo-intellectual statement really is a portrait with me. Who else would be shooting the camera.

Draft 2 was me trying to add myself back in somehow. Numbero three-o was an arsty thing. They all lost the contest in my head.

I do really think I will never top the beautiful, simple, resonating greeting of “Merry Christmas by any means necessary.”

If you want a real live postcard off of the printer du dee-rob, and you don’t think I have your mail addy, drop me a line. If you want the soon to be released digital postcard, let me know your email. If you don’t give a shit, and really who would blame you, don’t do nothing at all.

Other than seasonal greeting agony, work has been crazy busy in a very frustrating end of the year gotta get it done now way. One result, though, is that it appears some time in 2008 I might be doing a business trip to Kenya. In Africa. Like, African Kenya. In Africa. How fucking cool with that be?