I’m just a poor boy from a poor family

I find financial management software annoying.  Mostly because it fails to fully appreciate the story which the numbers tell.  Mint is all hung up on “budgets” and “trends” without taking in to account a once-in-a-lifetime trip or maybe how much fun it is to watch a kid open a present.  The true meaning of Christmas is the love of children, which can be won by giving them crap.  Tallulah loves me.  At least she better, because it is no fun opening up that Mint account and looking at what is really going on.

And what is really going on, most of the time, is not that bad.  It’s not life or death, as opposed to the reading that we were given yesterday.  Yes, the forth day of Christmas and the reading was about Judas being identified as the one who would betray Jesus.  That’s a bummer.  This is Christmas.  We want goodies, not goonies.  Can it get any worse than being reminded that we were the ones in the crowd calling for Pilate to crucify Jesus and release Roderick, or Roger?

Actually, no.  That’s as bad as it gets, which makes a good argument for going ahead and getting it out there.  I can suck, but I can only suck so much.  Even suckage is limited for human beings.  While the limits of my depravity are not necessarily fun to plumb, it beats denying they exist.  They will come out whether or not I want them to.  Usually, they’ll come out in some outstandingly douchey way.

Maybe not so douchey as Herod, but still Massengill worthy.  You remember Herod, right?  Roman appointed King during the time of Jesus?  Rebuilt and restored the temple?  Gave us a feast day today?  Yeah, it’s a feast day because of Herod, but it’s not a feast for him.  It’s the Feast of the Holy Innocents (aka babies.)  We don’t have a feast because Herod loved the little children, all the little children of the world.  We have a feast to remember that he killed the first born of the Jewish families because he feared the prophesied messiah had been born.  That’s a bummer.

Another bummer in the Christmas season, but a reminder that our shortcomings will get acknowledgement publicly whether or not we mean for them to.  We are only as sick as out secrets, so to speak.  Kids love to have a secret to share.  They’ll go around whispering their secret to everybody, especially if it involves poop in some way.  And we will know if they made poops whether or not they admit it.  They might as well go ahead and get a laugh out of it.