Don't Call it a Best Of, It's Been Here All Along

Holiday Festivarious: Things to raise your spirits.

The Modern Tribe by Celebration. To Listen. Their name is Celebration for Pete's sake. It's the best $9.99 you'll spend at the iTunes store

His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman. To re-read. I started re-reading The Golden Compass to enliven my movie experience (and also because everything else I was reading made me feel bad), but the whole trilogy is simply un-put-down-able. AND it's so Wintery it'll give you frostbite.

MW by Osamu Tezuka. To read for the first time. It's holy, it's unholy, it's gay (as in, it's about homosexuals), and it's the most beautiful manga ever. I think one of Alan Moore's snake gods had its way with Tezuka when he was writing this. It is dirty as all hell, and never looks back. And if that's not how you're marching into a new year...well, I'm only going to suggest you re-think your entire life.

Tom Brady by The Patirots. To NOT feel sorry for. Tom Brady represents the winner's conundrum. I used to feel a little sorry for him because he couldn't have a "normal" life wherein he got to hang with his newborn kid, and he would never shed the shame of his team being caught cheating...and he has that really unfortunate Paleolithic brow bone. But how do you love a team that refuses to lose? Is this a modern dysfunction? Oh God...is this Red Sox-syndrome: when you can't love anything that always wins?

Blue Label by Johnny Walker. To drink. My mother sent this to me for Xmas. It is...it is...amazing. It's all the things I like about blendeds (sweet and smooth) and single malts (peety), with none of the bad things. Well, except for the fact that only my mom can afford to get this for me. Nothing says holiday spirits like whiskey.

I don't actually want to help anyone buy any of the above (except Tom Brady, whose fee is a steal next season, I hear), because I'm lazy and it brings me no joy. This is the cul-de-sac of blogs, folks. No links, but we're all smart kids with Google browsers, right?

Suffice it to say the real meaning of Kwithmuth is love and faith and good cheer and three magi. Hug your neighbor and tell me how it felt.