That's right my devoted readership (one particularly devoted reader overnighted me her big toe), Christmas has descended upon us like a festive Santa hat wearing pterodactyl cutting down terrified elf bunnies from the air. Not for food. Just for fun. I for one, could not be happier. But my psychologist says I sometimes confuse terror and happiness due to some kind of chromosomal abnormality. Since we as a people have wisely moved on from massacring Indians to massacring prices, Thanksgiving has been the proverbial starting gate for our true national pastime of mindless and relentless consumerism often involving the trampling of actual human beings or the serendipitous (the same abnormality causes confusion between tragedy and serendipity) meeting of an elbow and a pregnant woman's belly. Or, if you have absolutely no fucking sense of decorum or decency, that gate opened in like September allowing the opportunity for a nice early fall trample-fest. Anyway, the holiday season isn't just about economic stimulation. It's also a time for giving, and if memory serves, decorative gourds. Since my gourd decorating abilities are abysmal, I had to wrack my brain for another way in which I could contribute something good to this dreary, gray, square (sphericalossitudinous is only a state of mind) globe we inhabit.
At first, I thought I could work to end world hunger or possibly raise awareness about child abuse. After a period of deep contemplation I decided that it would benefit the individuals that compose the masses if I just wrote shopping guides instead. Being one who has never been willing to ignore a sincere call to action, I began gathering information posthaste. Even though I wouldn't ignore the call to action, I'm still lazy to such a degree that scientists are currently working around the clock trying to develop instruments that can accurately capture and measure the scale of my sloth. I've overheard my lack of action described as "astounding" and a bunch of other crap but I stopped listening because it involved too much conscious effort on my part. As such, this guide will be broken up into multiple parts, allowing me to express my genetic uniqueness as a listless pile of crap and to develop an ever increasing sense of gift finding urgency as the day of days approaches. This will culminate, as with all my other attempts at maintaining a theme in my posts with some sort of disappointing anticlimax probably attributable to my total commitment to a lack of commitment.
All that pomp and circumstance aside, I present to you the first must have item of this year's Christmas season, the girls youth rifle.
Notice the fine attention to detail. The wood grain is an ironic commentary about how you can use a dead tree to slaughter other living, breathing organisms and still look stylish. Not pictured: the floral-patterned hook tipped gutting knife bayonet.
It's the perfect gift for your little girl or your slightly effeminate but with a keen eye for interior design little boy. If you're Johnny-on-the-spot with regards to using every new toy as an opportunity to educate your children, you can wrap this gift in paper with the U.S. Constitution printed on it. And then as they open their gift and their shining little eyes behold their very first tool of death and destruction, you can explain to them how what they just did with the wrapping paper is essentially what the U.S. Government has done with our real Constitution, slowly eroding the individual rights of the American people and whittling them down to those that allow us just enough freedom to be nothing more than helpless pawns in the megalomaniacal schemes of a few elitist buttwipes. The first time little Sally or someday-fashion-designer Preston click a shell into this pink beauty and feel the raw power of having sway over life and death, they will do so with fond thoughts of their mother or father who overlooked common sense and saw fit to not only purchase their first grader a gun, but had the foresight to make sure it didn't clash with the paint job of the Barbie Corvette Power Wheels they lost interest in about mid-January of the previous year. Really, it's a practical gift though. If the government ever comes for your weapons, and it has happened before and recently it is highly unlikely that they will find the pink .22 that Suzy keeps under her Teletubbies bedspread in order to always be ready for mid-slumber nighttime combat. So now, even though the government has taken your cache of AK-47s and roof mounted .50 cals, your daughter will still be able to provide adequate protection for all of the dolls at her biweekly tea party and imaginary friend dinner socials. And if you raised her with the sharing spirit, maybe she just might let you borrow it, and perhaps even a bit of ammo to fend off the roving gang of looters that seems to have found their way to your front door. Just be careful how you approach this inevitable situation, though. Because it would be highly hypocritical of you to piss and moan about how the government infringed upon your rights as a gun owner and an American citizen and then go and take Polly's gun without taking proper precaution to be polite when you borrow her weapon.
We also live in a competitive country. And along with tetherball, kids also compete about the number of M&M's they can fit in their mouths as well as the extravagance of their Christmas loot. It's a profound issue of integrity and studies have shown that children who can't measure up go on to lead dark, meaningless lives as homeless people or politicians, only the former of which is at least noble. But no matter how many kids got an Xbox 360, only your child will actually be able to bust a cap in the figurative ass of that mind corroding machine from a distance of 100 yards (if you spring for the optional high mag long distance scope with night vision and red dot sight) and at a speed of 1200 feet per second. Furthermore, if anyone at school gives him-her/her any trouble, beats him-her/her at a schoolyard game, or assigns him-her/her a less than idea grade, he-she/she need only bring the gun to school once and the problem will be solved. Because he-she/she will be promptly expelled and possibly have the opportunity to benefit from the fine educational resources at the local youth authority. Regardless, bringing superior military might to bear is a trump card to any other child's gift. And it's your sworn duty as a parent to make sure that in the eyes of all the other little kids at school your child looks awesome, and if at all possible, fearful.
The other question one must ask themselves in this failing economy is who can afford basic amenities like food? No one if you still want cable with movie channels. And with a PhD engineer of a father constantly having to fill out unemployment paperwork, and a mother with 16 years experience as a 9th grade A.P. math teacher currently working at the local Wal-Mart, who has time to hunt? Only little Bridget does. And with your wise choice of gift, she will also have the necessary equipment. Proficiency will come with practice. And in the unlikely event that there is some sort of "accident" involving the gun, and a neighbor or a non-food sanctioned family pet such as a mongoose, I'm sure there's something in the law books ensuring judicial leniency if it's an 8 year old girl and the rifle is a pastel.
Education, protection, schoolyard oneupsmanship, putting food on the table... the only thing this gift doesn't do is wash dishes. But I guess even that is a debatable claim. For anyone who has been lucky enough to see the masterful epic entitled Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead already knows, sometimes guns can do dishes. At any rate, this is a gift that you almost can't afford to not fail to purchase for your child this holiday season. So do it. And I predict you'll have a freezer full of fresh, if not slightly illegally hunted venison by early January. Which is good because your kid will have lost interest in everything from Christmas by the 15th.
Don't forget the ammo! Happy holidays and happy hunting (for a good defense attorney)!
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