"Excuses are the nails that build the house failure."

Paul Bunyan's Beard

Life Rule #1212.  Bags:  The Gift that Truly Keeps On Giving

Life Rule #1212. Bags: The Gift that Truly Keeps On Giving

While some of you procrastinators out there undoubtedly scramble to fulfill last minute holiday shopping, I'd like to take a moment of your precious time and pass on a tradition that was passed down to me from my father.  Gift wrapping, and the necessary loophole which makes your life so much simpler. 

Bags.  It's really that simple kids.  Don't care if they have handles on them, what color they are, or what size you pick out.  Hell, I've even dropped a birthday present into a Christmas-themed bag.  As long as the apparatus in which you place your gift shrouds said gift in mystery, then you've done your job.  That's the only reason for wrapping paper, after all.  The presenter wishes for the recipient to have nary an idea of what lies behind that paper curtain.

I say forget the wrapping paper!  I just butched my way through a few Christmas present wrap jobs because I got lackadaisical for the 2017 version of the holidays and forgot to pickup bags to coincide with my gifts.  Now I know what the Grinch feels like.  I can't put a smile on little Cindy Lou Who's face with a present that looks like it was wrapped by Edward Scissor Hands.  

Now, I suppose there are exceptions to this rule.  If you've got the gift wrapping capabilities of an FAO Schwarz employee then I'm not talking to you.  The skills you possess are unquestionable.  Your wrapping talents likely rival those of a freshly pressed three piece suit.  So crisp and so clean.  For that you can take your wrapping paper, the coal you'll certainly get from Santa for your pompous displays of creativity, hop into his sleigh, and fly yourself straight to hell.

Let me ask all of you good little girls and boys what Santa carries all of your presents around in as he's depositing those gifts down chimneys around the globe.  I don't need to ask, do I?  He carries them around in his trusty velvet sack!  That's right.  Even jolly old Saint Nick uses bags.  He knows the drill.  Toss that toy in a sack, sprinkle a bit of tissue paper over the top to discourage prying eyes, and that's all Mrs. Claus wrote.  Merry Christmas.

And don't you dare make the mistake of questioning a bagger's efforts.  We're looking out for the kind soul who will be opening our gifts!  I, for one, appreciate the magic show.  Here's a bag.  Now reach your hand into the bag and see what you pull out!  It likely won't be a rabbit but the trick is carried out flawlessly every single time.  I don't need to rip and pull and peel folks.  Furthermore, a bag gives away zilch when it comes to formation.  The bag is still just a bag and nothing more.  Gifts wrapped in paper can inadvertently announce a present's true intentions.  Oh look, it's a hockey stick!  Either that, or you got me a mop for my birthday.  Thanks....I appreciate the thought.  Come on folks.  If you're not already on board THIS Polar Express then you're missing the party.

Trash the wrapping paper.  Hey, speaking of trash, here's another fun observation!  Where do you think all of that discarded paper goes once it's served its purpose?  Ding Ding Ding!  Into a trash bag.  Right where the presents should have been in the first place!  Oh God that brings me back to darker Christmas memories.  Did any of you ever have the privilege of being bestowed the honors of collecting all of that crumpled up wrapping paper while all of your siblings and cousins continued revealing toy after toy?!  Nothing worse than having "bag duty".  Just another useless job we could rid ourselves of if we conformed entirely to the BAG.

Do yourselves a favor and being stocking up on bags.  You'll never go back, and I guarantee you'll have a much hollier jollier Christmas.

Enjoy the Holidays you bowls full of jelly!  Merry Christmas to all and to all a GOOD NIGHT!


The Manners Monster:  Let Him Out To Play

The Manners Monster: Let Him Out To Play

Barbicide:  Where Melted Otter Pops Go to Die.

Barbicide: Where Melted Otter Pops Go to Die.