I’m sure at the time this photo of me was “cute” and “adorable” and “heart-warming.” But looking at it today, I see something else…
Keep your hands where
we can see them.
Maybe I’m interpreting it with my 2011 cynicism?
But, the more I look, the more photos of my son below further evidence the shadiness of the goings-on above. Look how sweet and platonic the Santas are with my son in the three photos. Notice the regulation glasses. The calm, if ambivalent demeanor. The legit beards.
When I look at that photo of me all is see is pedo-glasses, a fake stank-beard and a fierce desire to drink “spiked eggnog.” North Pole? More like the corner of North 20th Avenue, leaning against a pole on probation for B & E.
Good thing I had a giant can of mace in my pocket and a black belt in punching bowls full of jelly. I may have to teach my son the skill that every kid should be familiar with by the time they can walk: the testicle kicksplosion.
Happy Holidays everyone,