Whatever the reason - dead Russians or booze,
he stood there on Christmas hating the Moos,
Staring down from his duplex with a sour, Yinchy frown,
At the warm lighted condos below in their town.
For he knew every Moo in Mooville County
was busy now, shopping, and dragging home bounty
from Pier 1 and Kmart and Circuit City
Picturing them made him feel oh-so-shitty!
Loading their SUVs full of dumb crap
From Walmart and Z Gallerie and The Gap!
Palm pilots, DVDs, CDs, computers,
Aromatherapy, dangerous scooters!
coffee and toffee, gummies by the pound,
Spending so much on the junk that they found!
Fleece sweatshirts, calendars, cheap-looking rings,
from Tower and Target and Linens 'n' Things!
Shopping and talking - with too much to say!
Each byte's so trite 'cause they speak in clichés!
Then they sit in traffic, in the dark, in the rain,
Singing along with songs by Shania Twain!
Who likes Shania Twain?! They must be insane!
Oh, please! Those Moos! Those dimwitted clods!
They NEVER shut up about gifts from their gods!
Next...Yinchy's deconstruction of the Christmas seduction.