Falling leaves? Cold winds? New television programming? No. Calendar kiosks everywhere are the sign of fall truly being upon us. Every year the pestilence falls upon us all, eager to tempt us with cute puppies, kittens, lighthouses, Hooters waitresses, scenic vistas of faraway places we hope we’ll get to next year. All of it predicated on your forgetting that come January 20th every damned thing there will be half off.
Resist! Resist, I say! Stop and oogle the oiled-up pictures of people with better genes and more time to spend in the gym than yourself, if you must. But don’t spend! Don’t encourage this cancer that kills trees and entreats you to just HANG IN THERE with it’s cutsie-wootsie widdle snookums-pudding kitty.
Unless you need a Christmas gift for dad, that is. Because jeez, what the hell else are you going to buy the old man this year?
This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs