2003 Holiday Survival Guide for Slackers

Last year you did all your shopping on the drive to grandmother’s house, but this year you’ve got a chance to make good.

Four days until Christmas and you haven’t even started shopping. Not even four days, really, because I’m counting Christmas itself, when the only business open is the Grab ‘n Dash at the corner Union 76 selling tequila lollipops and fake roses that unroll into panties. And we might as well rule out Christmas Eve too, because history suggests that if you haven’t completed your purchases by then you will be overwhelmed with panic and flee to Canada. And tomorrow is that 18-hour BJ and the Bear marathon on Nickelodeon. So, really, today is pretty much it. You’re so screwed.

Or not! For the second year in a row we are proud to present the Holiday Survival Guide for Slackers, an assortment of fine items you can purchase right this very last-minute via the miracle of the Internet. And as always everything in this article is guaranteed to be 100 percent for-real. Except, obviously, the part about us being proud to present it.


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Has the teenage girl in your life been ‘dissing’ the Almighty? When you try to tell her the Good News do you find yourself ‘talking to the hand?’ Is she more interested in ‘Christina Aguilera’ than ‘Christ and arugula?’ Then you need to buy Revolve, the complete New Testament… for teen girls! Like God in the form of a burning bush (Exo 3:2) or King Herod disguised as eggplant parmesan (Corinthians 14:2), Revolve looks like a hip fashion magazine; but when your unwitting daughter opens the cover, the Word of our Lord springs forth and ensnares her in a suffocating web of Holy Goodness. Likewise, when your 14-year-old son also mistakes it for a teen-girl fashion magazine and sneaks it off to his bedroom for his nightly ‘alone time’ – booyah: two conversions for the price of one! Radical!


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With the Bow-Lingual® Dog Translator you can peel back the unnervingly buttery-smelling fur of your dog’s head and peer directly into his chickpea-sized brain! Just imagine what you’ll discover:

When your Golden Retriever says: Arf! Raf raf, Rrrr, Raff!

He’s thinking: tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball

When your Golden Retriever says: Mrrrrf?

He’s thinking: tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis

When your Golden Retriever says: Grrrrrrrrrarrff! Rar rarf! Rarf!

He’s thinking: tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball squirrels tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball tennis ball

When your Golden Retriever says: Rrr! Arf! Arf! Arr rrrarf!

He’s thinking: Oh man, that one day? Six years ago? When the guy dropped the ice-cream sandwich on the floor and I got to eat it? That was the single greatest day ever.

Perfect for the aunt who mistakenly believes her Shar-Pei considers her to be anything other than a bipedal kibble dispenser.


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I once had this crazy old-lady neighbor who was forever throwing stuff over my fence. Leaves. Sticks. Rocks. Soda cans. Once a possum that had been lying dead on her back lawn for several days miraculously managed to scale the fence and deposit itself three feet into my yard. Another time I was on my back porch reading when I noticed her picking up stray bits of grass and, unaware of my presence, dropping them over the fence a blade at a time. Eventually I moved to a new house. But if you happen to know the person currently living at 171 State St. in Seattle, you may want to pick him up a DaVinci Trebuchet Catapult. Crafted entirely from premium Red Oak hardwood, this is that Holy Grail of inter-residential warfare, able to launch possum corpses over 35 feet.


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Your life partner has an odious but involuntary personal defect that needs addressing. You don’t want to tell her outright – she’s always so sensitive about these matters – but instead want to reveal this information to her gently, in a manner tactful yet unambiguous. What to do? Give the gift of subtlety with the Flatulence Deodorizer™ Premium. It’s the perfect way to say, ‘I would love you just the way you are, if I was afflicted with anosmia.’ But don’t take my word for it – one doctor has vaguely recommended it! And, as the website boasts, ‘PROVEN IN GULF COMBAT! LIVES DEPEND ON IT!’ All of which combines to make this the best possible present Santa could lug down the chimney. Remember: the ‘Flatulence Deodorizer’ tells her that you’re supportive of her efforts toward self-improvement… but the ‘Premium’ tells her you care.


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A 10-way tie: Iraq’s Most Wanted Playing Cards; Most Wanted Iraqi Playing Cards; Bush Administration Most Wanted Playing Cards; The 55 Celebrities Who Protested the Iraq War Playing Cards; The Bush House of Cards Playing Cards; Wall Street’s Most Wanted Playing Cards; U.S. Operation Hidden Agenda Playing Cards; The Deck of Republican Chickenhawks Playing Cards; The 52 Most Dangerous Liberals Playing Cards; The 55 Most Wanted Deck for U.S. Regime Change Playing Cards. Hah hah hah! Oh man, that joke just never gets old. Who says Yankee ingenuity is dead?


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We all know someone who, through a series of cruel fate-twists, wound up employed by a monolithic, soul-crushing behemoth of a corporation that has, over the years, so thoroughly eroded his self-confidence and sense of wonder that the only time he can muster enthusiasm for anything work-related is when he fantasizes about perforating his superiors and coworkers. Well, turn that frown upside down with The Shocking Mouse! Just imagine the grimace of delight that will spasm across his face when he emerges from a 90-minute Pre-Discussion Meeting with Marketing to prepare participants for the two-hour Post-Pre-Discussion Planning Roundtable later that afternoon, trudges back to his cubicle and, upon touching his mouse, receives a painful electric jolt! You’ll know you got him the perfect gift when you see him put his head into his hands and sob, overcome with the joy of the holidays.


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Difficult though it is to believe now, there was a time when children considered Santa Claus’s omnipotence, omniscience, and omnipresence sufficient reason to revere him as a god. But in these violent times, full of gangsta rap and first-person shooters and balsamic vinegar, kids don’t respect anyone unless they look like they could beat the crap of a Navy S.E.A.L. So rekindle the spirit of Christmas in the heart of a child with the purchase of the Santa With Muscles videotape. In this delightful yuletide classic, a young prince becomes proficient in martial arts and animal communication, eventually earning the title ‘Beastmaster,’ and travels the land in search of… uhhhh, hang on – I think that might be another movie I watched stoned. Santa With Muscles starred Hulk Hogan, maybe? Or Dolph Lundgren? Either way, critics have hailed it as ‘the bottom of the holiday barrel’ (Roger Ebert, Chicago Sun-Times) and ‘a movie whose message seems to be that beating people up is the way to solve your problems’ (Chris Hick, Washington Post), so it’s certain to be a hit with your twerps. And it’s probably one-infinity times better than The Cat In The Hat.


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Told to me by my buddy Sean:

I used to work the night shift at a call center. Unfortunately, I had never worked night shift before and couldn’t get used to sleeping during the day. So about two weeks after I started the job, I come into work and I’m, like, delirious from sleep deprivation. I could barely stay awake. I couldn’t speak coherently to customers on the phone. I spent most my shift just staring blankly at this old TV we had in the center that we left on all night. It only got one station, which at that time of night only broadcast one thing: ‘Juice Man’ infomercials.

After work I went back to my apartment and tried to get some rest, but I couldn’t get to sleep and I tossed and turned for a few hours. When I finally fell under, I had a dream so vivid that, while I was in it, I honestly believed it to be real. I was walking through my apartment, every room of which was filled with the dismembered bodies of my roommates and friends. There were severed limbs lying around, gore all over the walls. And I was totally aghast, thinking ‘Oh my god! How did this happen? Who could have done this?’ And then I walked into the living room, and written on the wall in blood I saw: ‘YOU’VE BEEN FUCKED BY THE JUICEMAN!!’

I don’t know the first thing about the The Juiceman II Juicer. But holy cats, do I love that story.


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He’s read the book, he’s seen the movie – now the Steinbeck lover on your list can own the town of Tortilla Flat, AZ, currently listed on eBay for $5,550,000. Perfect for the fan who already owns a pearl, a cup of gold, a red pony, some harvest gypsies, and a dog named Charlie. NOTE: purchase price includes only one (1) Tortilla Flat.


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But let’s be honest, regardless of what I say you’re gonna wait until Christmas morning to do your shopping. So why not just do what you do every year: buy Union 76 $5 gift cards for everyone! Because who couldn’t use 1.4 gallons of gas and a pepperoni stick? And if you give one to your cousin – the one who’s as big a slacker as you – maybe you’ll receive a Panty Rose for Christmas 2004.

Happy Holidays!