Christmas day

The 2000th anniversary of the 10th birthday of Jesus of Nazareth. I find it easy to picture him as a pretty cool little kid.

Lots of good times, especially for the wonderniece. An oversight left L with no stocking on Christmas morning.

For some reason Christmas dinner with family tasted even better than usual this year.

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Yet another tradition: the Christmas Night Pub-crawl with Sabitathica and Number Six. The team was upgraded by one this year with the addition of L.

We three crusaders made a dark pilgrimage to Quincy - city of my birth - that we might slake our thirsts with a stout and hearty brew.

With no provisions but our open faces we set our shoulders against the wind and journeyed forth until we sighted at last a little tavern set high on a hill and through a window espied a lantern lit to guide our footsteps. Unfortunately the inn was overflowing with creeps and scoundrels, the most wretched hive of scum and villainy this side of Rockland.

Dig if you will this picture: there was no music playing on the saloon's sound-system. The sunken eyes of the patrons were glued weakly to grey television boxes, where a staggeringly boring game of sport was being played with resignation by feeble professionals, heartless and empty. No one spoke. No one laughed. No one smiled.

Outside these walls it was Christmas night; inside we were witness to some doom too grim to speak its name. We never learned what wretched spell had been a'cast over those lost souls, but its name must taste foul on the lips of decent men. We drank our beers and left.

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Sitting in that depressing place, Number Six and I devised a simple plan which, try as we might, we couldn't think of a reason not to set in motion:

1. book a gig at a cantina for the upcoming holiday season, either on Christmas night or during Now Today Week;
2. show up and play some music.

Number Six favors a version of this plan which omits step 1.