GRIZZLY HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Grizzly Happy New Year

 ‘Happy New Year,’ is often heard during the month of January, in the US, though I have no idea what the rest of the world does to celebrate. I would have to do some research on the subject which I look forward to as much as I would having a rash on my naughty parts.

The 1^st of January has been celebrated with festivals and rituals dating all the way back to the Babylonians of ancient Mesopotamia over 4,000 years ago. Prior to that the Mesopotamians were just standing around on the 1^st trying to figure out what to do for fun. They marked the occasion with a massive religious festival called Akitu. Statues of the gods were paraded through the city streets and rituals were enacted to symbolize their victory over the forces of chaos. Through these rituals the Babylonians believed the world was symbolically cleansed and recreated by the gods in preparation for the new year and the return of spring. But after several years with only sparse attendance, a committee was formed to find a way to enhance the holiday. The chairman Dieabetes, put his nephew Hermanski, in charge of the refreshments. After the members had a sufficiency of ‘magic’ mushrooms, and hashish brownies, they got busy - discussing ideas for a new theme for next year’s celebration.

Intestinum of Rectum, while toking on some cannabis, spoke next. “Hey man … wouldn’t it be a trip if in addition to parades, we celebrated the mythical victory of the Babylonian sky God Marduk over the evil sea goddess Tiamat, who was like the embodiment of primordial chaos and stuff --”

Asparagus jumped in, “Like she could appear as a sea serpent or dragon, firing laser beams from her eyes.”

“What if,” said Sativa, “Tiamat gives birth to the first generation of deities with her husband, Apsu, but her children aspire to usurp the throne, and have Apsu rubbed out. Tiamat is totally bummed; she brings forth multitudes of monsters as offspring. She is then slain by Enki’s son, the storm-God Marduk --”

Spicoli took over, “But not before she had brought forth the monsters of the Mesopotamian pantheon, including the first dragons, whose bodies she filled with poison instead of blood. Marduk then integrates elements of her body into the heavens and the earth.”

Chairman Dieabetes, staggered to his feet and said, “I can dig it, but we don’t have the time or budget to pull that off. What we need here is a simple, cheap, crowd pleaser.” Intestinum raised his hand.

“What if we ritually humiliate our King.”

“Hmm, I’m listening,” replied Dieabetes.

“In front of everyone, we bring the king before a huge statue of the god, Marduk, strip him naked, and whip his royal highness with some olive branches, then pull him around by his … ah … ears until he cries.”

“Dude! How many brownies did you have?”

“Seriously, we tell the king, if he sheds royal tears, it means Marduk is pleased and will extend the king’s rule.”

“You really think the king will go for this?”

Hermanski offered, “Better give him a few of these brownies first.”

 

It was the Roman Emperor Julius Caesar in 46 BC, who decided to name the month of January after Janus, the god of things that swing, or his secretary, Janice who really knew how to swing; not sure which. Not long after Julius Caesar was murdered. Apparently, Romans are very touchy about their calendars.

New Year’s Eve in Brazil has a tradition that if you wear brightly colored underwear, you will get lucky. If you wear red this is meant to bring you love, and yellow is to bring you money. Brown probably means you’re way behind in your laundry.

In the good ole United States, it is traditional to spend the evening with loved ones, or ones you plan to love, and ones who are unlovely but tend to get better looking after a night of drinking. There is music and dancing, toasting, with a bunch of hugging and kissing and a whole lot of drinking. That is usually followed by another round of hugging and kissing, and so on until you greet the ‘New Day’ passed out on the bathroom floor, waking with a splitting headache and a wicked hangover. This is not to say that everyone gets wasted on New Year’s Eve, it is just that I don’t hang out with any of those people.

On this New Year’s Eve there will be toasts that drink to one’s health, others will toast to wealth. There will be those who drink to happiness, and others who drink to success. As for me, I’ll be on my houseboat with my dog Ginger, drinking to excess.

Happy New Year, and remember to arrive alive, DON’T DRINK AND DRIVE!

 

Signed; Grizzly ‘Sober as a Judge’ Gus

 

TIS THE SEASON

 

Here at the Prickly Heat Senior Citizen Trailer Park and Public Boat Launch – overlooking Lake Flaccid, somewhere near Lutz Lake, at the base of Viagra Falls, just outside of Gomer, Florida, is where I live with my pit bulldog, Ginger. The other resident octogenarians have nick-named me Santa Claus. Aside from the snowy beard of white, now stained by chain-smoking and an occasional snack of cheesy nachos with salsa, like ole Sant Nick I too keep a list of all those who are naughty and nice, and I definitely plan to visit all the naughty gals twice. Hey, why is it when Santa Claus ‘♫…knows when you are sleeping ♫ knows when you are awake ♫ knows when you’ve been bad or good ♫ … they write songs about him - when I do it, I get a restraining order!

While I may no longer be lively and quick – the ladies love me because I’ve got a big . . . dingy; that can take six comfortably out to my houseboat. I keep it anchored on the lake.

I am looking forward to a joyous and restful Christmas having just endured the onslaught of relatives residing in my residence and a Black Friday that had me risking life and limb at the shopping mall. My granddaughter made it abundantly clear that her life would end at the tender year of seven, if she did not get an Oopsie Doopsie Queasy Bake Oven for Christmas. I certainly did not want that on my conscience. I enjoy shopping about as much as I relish a visit to the proctologist; both are huge pain in the posterior. Speaking of which, I traveled thousands of miles to pay a visit to my elderly Aunt Louise, who can’t even remember what she had for breakfast let alone remember me. After many hours behind the wheel, sucking back one Red Bull after another, aside from the brief blackouts, I had ample opportunity to think about the true meaning of the holidays. It is all about relationships. For each person they can mean something different, such as an old spinster with her cat, a redneck and his truck, a gangster and a gun, a hillbilly with his cousin, a nerd and his computer, or a hermit with . . . himself. Specifically, I am referring to those relationships we have with our family. It is not the food, or the gifts, but the connection to others which means the most. The more I thought about it, I realized I'd missed the rest stop and had to pull over and hike into the woods to take a wiz. Afterwards, I came to the conclusion we do most everything either for or because of other people. So, as you are dashing through the stores to get a deal on a two hundred inch flat-screen TV or roasting a beast for the family feast, remember in the end, it is the memories that will remain along with all the bills to be paid. Happiest of holidays to you and yours.

 Signed: Grizzly ‘Ho Ho Ho’ Gus

 

Contact ‘Dear Grizzly’ at www.mdavidlutz.com or email: grizzlyggus@outlook.com

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