Day Seventy-Two: Don't Be A Jerk, It's Christmas

I can't say that I ever thought I find words of wisdom emanating from the television set while SpongeBob Square Pants was airing, but it happened. My boys were cracking up while SpongeBob sang the eternally festive words, "Don't Be A Jerk, It's Christmas." I was cracking up too. I really think that sums it up for a certain type of person. It's Christmas time, so stop being a jerk. At least until January first. Then you can go back to being a jerk. Until then, stop being a jerk by:

Cutting me off at the merge, you know that I have the right of way. You aren't fooling anyone and you only get there 2 seconds faster.

Grumbling at the long lines while you are waiting to pay for your unbelievably sale priced super high definition large screen television at the Black Friday, week after Black Friday, Saturday before Christmas sale. There is no such thing as a free ride.

Rolling your eyes and/or frowing in disgust at my children while they are misbehaving in public. You weren't a prize at that age either.

Leaving a crappy tip. If you didn't want someone to wait on you, go through the McDonalds drive through or stay at home. Otherwise, cough up the 15%.

Pretending you didn't see the Salvation Army Kettle. You don't have to donate, but you can be pleasant. The people ringing the bell are working hard for charity. Smile, say "Hello" or "Merry Christmas" or Santa will put coal in your stocking.

Sending your sick kid to school and/or Day Care. I don't want my kids to get it, I sure as hell don't want it and the staff doesn't consider the latest plague-like virus a Christmas gift.

Re-gifting cheap, crappy gifts. Do you really think we don't know when we get one? Come On. If its the thought that counts, the re-gift counts as a negative ten on your karmic score card.

Playing your car stereo at decibels that can be heard from the moon. I know you don't want to hear my feminist manifesto mix pulsating from my minivan and you know I don't want to hear your profanity filled, misogynistic, cop-hatin' rap from the fourth car behind you waiting at the red light.

Telling me how much you hate my political point of view. I think yours sucks too, but I keep it to myself (well most of the time.) People have fought and died so you can spout your hate mongering. Appreciate that fact in silence then preach to the choir and life will be much more pleasant for a month or so. W.W.J.D.*? Ring a bell?!

Wearing your clothes so tight/skin bearing I can read your gender, tell how many surgeries you have had and where all your tattoos are before I even enter the same room with you. It ain't pretty, sexy or inviting. It is disgusting. Look in a mirror. Please.

Acting like you are better than everyone else. You could have been born in a Calcutta slum, an African village ravaged by AIDs or a Chicago ghetto. You weren't. You won the cosmic lottery. Be grateful, be compassionate and be humble. Otherwise, I assure you that you will get yours in the next life.

Talking trash about your family, friends and neighbors. We don't want to hear it and you don't want to get caught, so just knock it off.

Remember, mean people suck. Especially at Christmas.

*For all you non-Jesus following folks (mostly you, Dad) W.W.J.D. means What Would Jesus Do?.