I would very simply like to tell you all that our continuing efforts here to wage the everlasting Yuletide tradition of the War on Christmas have successfully come to a close. Credit is due to the entire team at The Very Reverend Publius Minimus, Theyself, Ph. D., JD/MBA, B.S., first of our name, American Freedom Fighters, general Cosmic Radicals, Incorporated, Esq.
This season’s activities included such merriment as photoshopping inspirational Christmas quotes onto the photos of people with distinct speaking styles (and who absolutely did not say them).
The battles began again in mid-October, because the best defense is a good offense. Early, Phase 1 2019 tactics called for the application of older sock puppet accounts across several social media, much to the chagrin of local politicians and Tucker Carlsons in states numbering around a Baker’s Dozen.
Protip: “Baker’s Dozen” means 13, for all you Tucker Carlsons out there.
Since Christmas came early this year, Christmas Day was reserved for day-drinking, which quickly turned into all-day-drinking. President Fluffyface was mostly nonplussed at the ensuing shenanigans. We took turns playing Fallout 4, reminding ourselves of the inherent goodness and simplicity of Johnny Walker Red Label, and finding out that President Fluffyface ABSOLUTELY FUCKIN’ HATES IT when Dogmeat comes on the screen.
So, rather than have President Fluffyface get rather upset at us spending more time with a fake dog than a real one, we opted for Cait, Strong and Nick Valentine instead. This Friend’s Gallery of Irishwoman, Super Mutant and Synth greatly calmed the entire gathering of Publius Minimi, until the scotch ran out and we had to switch to gin. For the uninitiated, if Johnny Walker Red Label is inherent goodness and simplicity, then gin is the stuff of nightmares, socialites and Tucker Carlsons (but I repeat myself). We did this to ourselves on purpose. First, to understand our enemy we must drink like our enemy, and Second, because we are only as strong as our weakest link. The War on Christmas can’t have any slow-comers, molowas or bludgers. Only the Strong survive.
The final battle of this year’s War on Christmas concluded this morning, when we finally removed the cardboard boxes that had previously stored X-Mas gifts into the trash bin, instead of the recycling.
p.s. We stole the featured image from Army.mil, because we stand in solidarity with THE TROOPS! HARRUMPH!