My workplace held a Christmas in July lunch yesterday. I quite like Christmas in July: it’s the ultimate why-the-hell-not? excuse for a bunch of people to eat food that, for some reason nobody quite understands, they limit themselves to eating once a year. Nothing about it makes sense, and there’s a refreshing honesty overust how deeply everyone is deluding themselves in order to give permission to do something they could be doing any day of the week without repercussion. Maybe there’s some obscure appendix to the Bible that says we shalt not eat plum duff with custard except on days we all agree Jesus was born except the day he actually was. Or something.

Not all mass delusion ends in lime koolaid. Sometimes it end in crackers.

Anyway, in that spirit, here’s a Christmas thumbnail. Make of it what you will. It’s all very New Yorker-lite, this one. I like it more than I should, middle class pretension being one of my own personal delusions.

Edward… I’m not happy.

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