However, it’s working for me at the moment. As I work on this blog, I’m listening to the H. P. Lovecraft Historical Society’s A Very Scary Solstice Christmas album. Counting today, I have three shopping days until the big event—I once went shopping on Christmas Eve. It was a nightmare I won’t relive—and I still need to buy presents for two people who are dear to me. One is an elderly neighbor who tells me she doesn’t need anything but, as I learned a couple of years ago, will be sad for weeks if she doesn’t get anything; and the other is a newly-minted teenager who says he can’t think of anything he wants, but knows he doesn’t want gift cards or money.
His mother says she can’t help me. She doesn’t know what to get him, either.
I’ve wasted so much time online, trying to find the exact right things. Along the way, I’ve learned that Wirecutter’s list of “The 27 Best Last-Minute Gifts for the Holidays” has no value for the average consumer. It only exists so that people will click on its plethora of links and generate some income for its parent corporation. Some of the links go to sold-out items, others won’t get delivered until January. Besides, has anyone ever compiled a Christmas list that started with a squeeze tube of moisturizing cream? Is there someone with skin so dry that they all they wanted in their stocking is a three-pack of exfoliating scrubbers?
At this point, it’s too late to buy anything online and hope to receive it on time. I’m going to have to venture into the local shops to find something. It didn’t help earlier this year, but… I’ve gotta try. At this time of year, many of my fellow shoppers are bereft of the Christmas spirit. I couldn’t exchange a smile with them if I wanted to do so. With our faces hidden behind masks, we all look like we’ve gone to the store to rob their payroll.
Is it any wonder I turn to music to find a small measure of comfort? (If you weren’t aware, the links here generate no income for my parent corporation. Click on ‘em if you like, ignore ‘em if you like.)
The HPLHS has produced two albums, A Very Scary Solstice and An Even Scarier Solstice, and I own them both. The 46 songs on the combined song list were Christmas presents for me. When I first got the CDs, these were some of the titles that caught my eye:
All I Want for Solstice is My Sanity
Away in a Madhouse
Do You Fear What I Fear?
The World in Terror and Madness Lies
Harley Got Devoured by the Undead
I Saw Mommy Kissing Yog Sothoth—you get the idea.
If you’re wondering what the lyrics are like, this is the opening to Death to the World (sung to the tune of Joy to the World):
Death to the world! Cthulhu's come
Let Earth abhor this thing
Let every mind prepare for doom
As anguish and woe he'll bring. (And anguish and woe he'll bring.)
As anguish and woe he'll bring. (Anguish and woe he'll bring.)
As anguish, as anguish and woe he'll bring
Up from the sea, R'lyeh did rise
The cultists awestruck dumb
With ancient rites so wretched and perverse, (So foul and base.)
Cthulhu's time is come. (Cthulhu's time is come.)
Cthulhu's time is come. (Cthulhu's time is come.)
Cthulhu, Cthulhu's time has come
Unlike Santa Claus, Cthulhu is imaginary, so I can listen to this silliness and laugh. Considering the shopping ahead of me, it might be my only laugh of the day.
I’m running out of time to find a present for a 13-year-old. It has been years since I’ve had to find a present for a 13-year-old. My elderly neighbor? She’d probably like a squeeze tube of moisturizing cream and a three-pack of exfoliating scrubbers.
If you have any suggestions in regards to the teenager, let me know. In return, I’ll ask for Cthulhu to eat you first. No, no, that’s a good thing.
Happy holidays!
His mother says she can’t help me. She doesn’t know what to get him, either.
I’ve wasted so much time online, trying to find the exact right things. Along the way, I’ve learned that Wirecutter’s list of “The 27 Best Last-Minute Gifts for the Holidays” has no value for the average consumer. It only exists so that people will click on its plethora of links and generate some income for its parent corporation. Some of the links go to sold-out items, others won’t get delivered until January. Besides, has anyone ever compiled a Christmas list that started with a squeeze tube of moisturizing cream? Is there someone with skin so dry that they all they wanted in their stocking is a three-pack of exfoliating scrubbers?
At this point, it’s too late to buy anything online and hope to receive it on time. I’m going to have to venture into the local shops to find something. It didn’t help earlier this year, but… I’ve gotta try. At this time of year, many of my fellow shoppers are bereft of the Christmas spirit. I couldn’t exchange a smile with them if I wanted to do so. With our faces hidden behind masks, we all look like we’ve gone to the store to rob their payroll.
Is it any wonder I turn to music to find a small measure of comfort? (If you weren’t aware, the links here generate no income for my parent corporation. Click on ‘em if you like, ignore ‘em if you like.)
The HPLHS has produced two albums, A Very Scary Solstice and An Even Scarier Solstice, and I own them both. The 46 songs on the combined song list were Christmas presents for me. When I first got the CDs, these were some of the titles that caught my eye:
All I Want for Solstice is My Sanity
Away in a Madhouse
Do You Fear What I Fear?
The World in Terror and Madness Lies
Harley Got Devoured by the Undead
I Saw Mommy Kissing Yog Sothoth—you get the idea.
If you’re wondering what the lyrics are like, this is the opening to Death to the World (sung to the tune of Joy to the World):
Death to the world! Cthulhu's come
Let Earth abhor this thing
Let every mind prepare for doom
As anguish and woe he'll bring. (And anguish and woe he'll bring.)
As anguish and woe he'll bring. (Anguish and woe he'll bring.)
As anguish, as anguish and woe he'll bring
Up from the sea, R'lyeh did rise
The cultists awestruck dumb
With ancient rites so wretched and perverse, (So foul and base.)
Cthulhu's time is come. (Cthulhu's time is come.)
Cthulhu's time is come. (Cthulhu's time is come.)
Cthulhu, Cthulhu's time has come
Unlike Santa Claus, Cthulhu is imaginary, so I can listen to this silliness and laugh. Considering the shopping ahead of me, it might be my only laugh of the day.
I’m running out of time to find a present for a 13-year-old. It has been years since I’ve had to find a present for a 13-year-old. My elderly neighbor? She’d probably like a squeeze tube of moisturizing cream and a three-pack of exfoliating scrubbers.
If you have any suggestions in regards to the teenager, let me know. In return, I’ll ask for Cthulhu to eat you first. No, no, that’s a good thing.
Happy holidays!
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