You know...I have a lot to be thankful for.
I ruminate on this every year. Even years I don't get the requisite turkey dinner and nonsense. I've come to take Thanksgiving seriously in my advanced age. No, seriously. I do.
I've set aside the day each year to think about what I really am thankful for. And every year, it comes down to two things: family and friends. They're the two things I'm most thankful for every year.
My family might be spread to the four winds. We might not get together nearly often enough. But...we are a family. The love is still there, and always will be, no matter what. I'm grateful to have what family I have. My sister and brother. My aunt and uncle. My niece and nephew. Even my Republican-in-name-only brother-in-law. Even if I haven't gotten to visit any of them this year (which totally sucks), I still feel close as can be to all of 'em.
My friends are the same way. They're the family that's grown up around me. Each of them might only cruise in to my life every six months, but the hour or two we get to spend together is precious time. I'm appreciative that they give of themselves to me every single day and, like the family, I try and let them know that.
Life is good. I feel I'm at the exact spot where I'm supposed to be, knowing what I need to know and who I need to know. That's satisfying in a way that the simpler definitions of success never can be.
I give thanks for all this, and all that is to come.

Hmmm.
What to say about Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix?
Hmmm...
Well, they cut a lot out. But, the book was 896 pages. To cover it fully, with every detail intact, would take days. At two hours and 18 minutes, they've pared the story down to its bare bones, trading internal monologue and political maneuvering and teen romance for action.
We lose a lot of character beats for supporting characters as well. This means very little at all of Tonks, only a few moments with Luna Lovegood and all of Ron Weasley's big moments disappear with the Quidditch (there's broom flying aplenty, but none for the sake of the game in the film). Harry and Cho's romance is whittled down to a handful of fleeting moments that doesn't even whet your appetite.
If that's going to spoil your appreciation of the fifth film in the Harry Potter franchise, don't even bother going. Keep to your books and appreciate them for what they are. You're likely never going to be happy with the films, anyway.
If you're looking for one of the most fast-paced films in the franchise (nearly dizzyingly so) or some harrowing wizard-on-wizard combat? Well, they've got your number exactly.
David Yates, the director of this fifth film in the continuing adventures of Harry Potter, has a background in British television. He's never helmed a production like this. He's more than up to the task, keeping things lean and focussing the film almost entirely on Harry. He is our hero, after all. That makes the film more like a typical American film than the previous chapters, but it's not like they're ever going to win converts to the series at this point. You're either watching them or you aren't.

The film starts out with Harry at his lowest point. Cedric Diggory is dead. Harry feels responsible. He's isolated once again from the wizarding world and he feels miserable. He's tortured mercilessly by his cousin Dudley and his crew (Dudley now sporting the costume of a chav and looking much the worse for it). Bad things happen, and Harry is whisked away from Privet Drive by the Order of the Phoenix (waste no time in getting that title in!).
Harry's reunited with his friends and presented with a new nemesis: the Ministry of Magic themselves. Turns out that Harry's claims of the return of Voldemort aren't believed by the folks at the top, and they'll stop at nothing to squash out any word of the return of He Who Must Not Be Named.
In pursuit of that, the Ministry forces Dumbledore to accept a new teacher at Hogwarts. Dolores Umbridge, as brought to shocking pink life by Imelda Staunton, is every bit as iron, unbending and unflinchingly evil as she was on the written page. But there's a bit of humanity to the teensy despot now. I almost felt sorry for her. (Damn you and your acting skills, Imelda Staunton!)
Umbridge starts tightening her fist, enforcing the Ministry's new draconian vision. And that vision doesn't include learning any sort of defense against the Dark Arts (Why would anyone need to defend themselves? Rubbish idea, if you ask me). The students take it upon themselves to have a secret class, with Harry teaching what he's learned from fighting for his life over the last four years.
It's with Dumbledore's Army that the film misses out on some of its best potential material. However, we do end up with a training montage, and that has to mean something, right? Can't have an action movie without a montage, I say.
The kids get pretty darn good at their combat spellcraft, and that's a good thing because we're whisked into the finale very, very quickly.
How's the finale? Well, it's big. Really darn big. The Death Eaters really see action this time (the bulk of their attack on the Quidditch World Cup cut out of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire), fighting both the D.A. kids and the Order of the Phoenix. And the results are more intense than anything in the series thus far (and earning the film a PG-13 rating).

What's good?
Hmmm. Well, every moment that Gary Oldman, Alan Rickman or Maggie Smith is on screen, to be sure. They've brought their A games, and consequently, they raise the bar for the rest of the cast, who seem more than adequate to keep up. Staunton as Umbridge, of course. She's so close to how I envisioned the character in the book that she made my flesh crawl. She's the perfect combination of malevolent menace and sickeningly proper ettiquette. I really wish we saw more of Michael Gambon as Dumbledore, but he's damn near pushed out of the film until the end.
Jason Isaacs, of course. He's almost always great, though. Ralph Fiennes turns to subtlety to embody the ultimate evil of Lord Voldemort, not going over the top one wee bit. That's left to the batshit crazy Helena Bonham-Carter as Bellatrix Lestrange, who gets precious little screen time, but wrings gallons of madness out of her brief moments.
The kids are growing into fine little actors themselves, and Daniel Radcliffe shows signs that his career is going to continue long after he puts the Potter character to rest. Rupert Grint has already proven that, but gets so little time in this one. The budding Ron-Hermione romance is hinted at, but nothing else. Emma Watson also suffers from near-deletion. If she and Ron aren't right next to Harry, they're not in the movie. Evanna Lynch does a marvelous job with her few scenes as Looney Luna Lovegood. She's creepy and weird to the nth degree with seemingly little or no effort.
The humor. This is a really funny chapter in the series. And considering how dark and violent it gets, the humor is a welcome respite from the gloom that the series is delving into.
The effects work is generally good, though I found the centaurs and Grawp a wee bit cartoonish. The final fight is amazing, though. Throwing in visualizations was very necessary, and Yates and company managed to make the wizarding duels exciting and harrowing.

What's not so good?
Well, cutting out three quarters of the book. Duh.
You miss out on a lot of great character moments. "Weasley is our king." The twins' exit from the school (since they've NEVER had Peeves in the films, this was bound to be weaker for his loss). Harry's romantic confusion (though, in his credit, Radcliffe manages to convey some of that without the setup).
The flying scenes. Remember where I said the effects work was generally good? Well, the flying scenes look like they were shot before Star Wars and before Superman: The Movie. The compositing is sloppy -- not even TV quality by today's standards.

You don't need me to recommend the film to you. Either you're going to see it or you're not. You made that decision years ago. While stripped down to its bare bones, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix gets it all pretty close to right. The big moments are all there (including that dreaded third act death). It's just the little things that you end up missing.

Decided to play around with the Meet Your Daemon feature on The Golden Compass site. Needless to say, I was surprised. I got a jackal daemon named Xanthia, one of 118 different jackal daemons or something like that. I didn't commit it to memory.

Here's the fun thing...you folks can help determine if the daemon is right for me. If you take the above quiz, your input will affect what final form the daemon takes.
You have 12 days until it settles into its final form.

"Joe Rogan VS Carlos Mencia, ONSTAGE VIDEO." on Google Video
Carlos Mencia calls out Joe Rogan onstage, and gets PWN3D

Your results:
You are Obi-Wan Kenobi

Obi-Wan Kenobi 76% Qui-Gon Jinn 70% Yoda 66% Lando Calrissian 64% Mace Windu 63% R2-D2 63% Padme 62% Princess Leia 62% Chewbacca 59% Luke Skywalker 57%

You are civilized, calm, and have a good sense of humor, even when those around you don't. You can hold your own in a fight, but prefer it when things don't get too exciting.

(This list displays the top 10 results out of a possible 21 characters)


Click here to take the Star Wars Personality Test


OR

Your results:
You are Will Riker

Will Riker 80% James T. Kirk (Captain) 75% Geordi LaForge 75% Jean-Luc Picard 60% Data 60% Uhura 55% Worf 55% Mr. Sulu 55% Chekov 50% Mr. Scott 50% Deanna Troi 45% Beverly Crusher 45% Spock 42% Leonard McCoy (Bones) 40% An Expendable Character (Redshirt) 25%

At times you are self-centered but you have many friends. You love many women, but the right woman could get you to settle down.

Click here to take the Star Trek Personality Quiz


I find it funny that four of my top five in the SW quiz are Jedi. Hopefully it's fitting.
I never would have guessed Riker. He's a bit slutty for me. At least I don't think I'm slutty.

I found this on NeatoRama.
'Tis awesome in more ways than I can describe.

So, the Daily KOS blog had to go and take a dump all over football.
I went and replied.

via Ain't It Cool News and Douglas Rushkoff:
Robert Anton Wilson has officially left his body and transended to whatever great unknown awaits us.
I've been struggling with my writing of late. Nothing's been making me happy the last couple of weeks. But I will find my way through this, because of all the writers who've influenced me in the slightest, Robert Anton Wilson was the one who made writing seem, well, important.
I first became aquainted with his work at college (as most people apparently do). My friend Terry loaned me his copy of The Illuminatus Trilogy and I ate it up. Most books, even that size, take me less than a few hours to read. The text was so dense, so rich with detail and citation and goddamn mindblowing stuff -- that it took me over a week to get all the way through it. I'd probably read and reread most of it three or four times in that week, but I needed to.
I immediately rushed out and purchased everything of his I could find. The Shroedinger's Cat Trilogy. Masks of the Illuminati. The Illuminati Papers. Neuropolitics. Prometheus Rising. Cosmic Trigger. I even found a copy of his Playboy Book of Forbidden Words in the closed stacks of my college library.
I wasn't just hooked. I was obsessed. I tracked down and stole a copy of Akron Daraul's A History of Secret Societies since it featured prominently in Wilson's research. I studied the various Masonic conspiracies. The Gnostics. Crowley. Even the Church of the Subgenius.
Because of Robert Anton Wilson, I believe I'm more in touch with both myself and my world. I don't see conspiracies everywhere -- to the contrary, I know that most conspiracy theories are bunkum simply because no one can keep secrets that big for that long. However, I read newspapers with a more critical eye. I notice the minutia and details. Even the occasional fnord that gets past the editorial staff.
Wilson might have been dense and deep and all that horseshit, but he was also one of the funniest motherfuckers this world has ever seen. Many, many comedians owe him a debt -- I doubt Bill Hicks would have gone on the Flying Saucer Tour without a nudge or two from one of Wilson's books, for instance. The humor was one of the things that lasted with me, long after I'd read any of his books. I'd remember a particulary witty and applicable passage at the right time and chuckle to myself. The guy cracked me up like no author I've read who wasn't named Woody Allen.
I've not mentioned his nonfiction yet. Most people consider the sciences separate entities. They see a line of distinction between psychology and physics. Chemistry and sociology. Biology and politics. Wilson found the keys to meld them all together. His Quantum Psychology really did energize my brain to the possibilites that exist when we realize that everything we're trying to discover is all related. Any man that manages to interrelate the writings of Albert Einstein and Timothy Leary is an intellect to be respected. Wilson did that and so much more.

To tell you how influential Wilson was to my thought processes and creative drive, the newsletter Neurotrash from which this blog evolved was originally titled Operation Mindfuck 2 as a nod to Wilson.

There shall never be another. Goodbye, Mr Wilson. Roam free and learn those secrets you've been yearning to.

via CNET:

The New York Times reported today that Momofuku Ando, the inventor of ramen noodles, has died.
College students, techies and fans of quick meals everywhere should raise a cup of noodles in salute to the man who made it all possible.
Domo arigato, Ando-san. Ramen tabetai.

Isn't that cool?

You know you're morning is off to a GREAT start when the first thing you hear is pounding and someone yelling "FIRE DEPARTMENT!", right?
THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP! "FIRE DEPARTMENT!"
So, I gets up and got to the door before they pounded on mine, and (sure enough) the hallway's filled with smoke smell. MMMmmmmmm. Carbon monoxide, I love thee.

Fire dude: "There any smoke in your apartment."
Me: "Nope. Should I be out of here?"
Fire dude: "Not sure yet."

Hmmm. Not sure yet. I think that means I should likely get the fuck out.
Problem #1: My cat is wholly fucking terrified of noise. Which means he's hiding. I try to coax him out with some food. Ain't happening.
Problem #2: I ain't leavin' my mac!
Oh, wait. That's easy. It's a laptop. I scoop that up, try to get Bela out from behind the couch (He's definitely NOT coming out). And then I get the proverbial fuck out.
Thankfully, it's not COLD outside (it being late November in Ohio, that's simply not possible, but it's somehow temperate and warm). But, it is pissing rain. Yuck.
The people who aren't home/don't answer the door? Well, the firemen HAVE to break down their doors. After all, someone COULD be dead in there. Or dying.
So, as I'm leaving (after I make sure to tell a fire fighter about my cat), all I hear is doors getting busted in. Maintenance is working on replacing them right now, as I type this. I can hear 'em out in the hallway.
I wasn't outside all that long when one of the fire fighters gave me the all clear to return to my apartment. And when I came in, Bela was chowing down on the food I TRIED to lure him out with. Like he's gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.

So, the next thing that goes through my mind? I need to blog this shit.
That's right. Adam=loser.

In the words of Joe Banks, have an ice day.

Adam Goes All-In at Casino Royale

Thanks to the folks over at ytmnd.com, I've become aware of a short film that you folks should watch.

"The Bridge" on Google Video

Now...your homework. Check out THIS site for instructions/download information:
http://scientologyattack.ytmnd.com/
Then, have at it. Information wants to be free, right???

Hail Xenu!

Newest wrinkle in the Baby Monitor of Doom casts everyone in Harvard Square off the internets story (Yes, it was a baby monitor that was jamming everyone's wi-fi):

Now that they've installed the new equipment, I can get on web pages just fine (mostly). But any form of P2P or IM/chat program can not connect. No AIM, iChat, MSN Messenger, Yahoo Messenger, IRC, etc. It's all fubar.

Always a new wrinkle.

However, I should actually get my CSS/Ladytron pics up (there are some on my photo blog already). And maybe even the pics from my friends Dan and Morganne's wedding (back in July -- man, I suck).

I've had less than 3 hours sleep since Wednesday, and I'm really, really bushed. Which means I'm gonna sleep extra nice tonight. I rarely get insomnia, but it's a royal bitch when I do.

If you've not seen me online recently, let's just say I've been having ISP problems.

As grumpy as I got with Bresco Broadband, the folks who provide my wi-fi connection, it turned out it wasn't their fault. Some asswipe brought in some electronic device that was literally jamming all of their wi-fi antennas.
Of course, it wasn't there when they installed all their hardware. So, likely it's a new arrival to the complex. And a foreigner (because anything that would broadcast a signal this massive, even over unlicensed frequencies like the ones wi-fi occupies violates a few FCC regulations). So, they probably don't even know they're ruining the party for everyone else.

They're installing new hardware that should correct the problem. Hopefully.
So, much as I can't get at email, etc...I just need to be patient.

I hate that. Patience sucks.

Adam Make Great Review of New Borat Movie...Is Nice!

I've never been to a movie screening where only thirteen people showed up.
Sure, there were tons of things going on in CBus a week ago. There was Tool over at Nationwide Arena (spitting distance from the theater). Trick Daddy on campus. Being a Thursday, I'm sure there were about 700 keggers as well.
Still...thirteen people??? That's really no excuse. Especially when that wee handful of dedicated folk were treated to the funniest damn movie of the year.
That's right. We watched Borat.

Sascha Baron Cohen is one of the most insanely hilarious people alive. The word "genius" gets bandied about too frequently these days, but he truly deserves it. Some of the insanity he got away with on Da Ali G Show was not only inspired and hysterical, but relevant and downright important. That he did it all in character with a perfectly straight face was amazing.
Borat was my favorite of his three characters on Da Ali G Show. Sure, Bruno usually humiliated people more and Ali got the most high-profile interviews. But the dimwitted TV host from Kazakhstan was the guy who could go to a country bar and get the rednecks to sing a chorus of "Throw the Jew Down the Well". Borat embodies an innocence that's necessary to find truth. Sometimes the truth is ugly, and unless we confront it we can never cleanse our hands of it.
Borat as a character is satire at its purest form, with all the wit of Swift and the amazing physical humor of Danny Kaye. He's a loveable idiot who somehow manages to outwit every single person he meets. Borat exposes intolerance with comedy.
Can you tell I'm a fan?
My expectations for this movie were set impossibly high.
Throw in the hype of the current imbroglio with the government of Kazakhstan wanting to meet with President Bush over the movie (how many comedians cause an honest to goodness international incident???), and the bar just went higher.

Hot damn, does the movie deliver.

We begin in Borat's home village in Kazakhstan. We get to meet his family, his asshole neighbor and the village rapist. Etc. Etc.
From what I'm to understand, it's the depiction of the Kazakhs as a bunch of backward twits barely out of the Stone Age what has the government of Kazakhstan gunning for this movie. Strange that I've never heard the government of Poland protesting about all the damn Polack jokes out there, but I digress.
I happen to have relatives from Eastern Europe. The civilized part of Eastern Europe. Still, I've heard stories from the ones who've come to visit. Heard things that made me believe Hostel could have been a true story. I'm sure Kazakhstan is nice (just like I'm sure that Tom Cruise is totally sane and lucid). However, that whole region has the reputation of being exactly what it's portrayed as: technologically backward, unfriendly to women and intolerant of other peoples.
The issue of anti-semetism in Borat is also utterly ludicrous. As we all know, Sasha Baron Cohen is a Jew. Borat's anti-semetic views were always showed to be spawned of ignorance, making him more of a boob. In the film, they highlight the issue in such a way that hopefully makes some people rethink their bigotry. Of course, since bigots aren't the brightest bulbs on the Christmas tree, I'm not entirely hopeful about that.
If the government of Kazakhstan wants to improve their image in the eyes of the world, perhaps they should improve their country instead of attacking comedians and satirists.
The same goes for our illustrious president. It doesn't matter how much fun Borat has with your voter base, Mr. Bush. Hands off. It's all only funny because it's TRUE.

Did I just go on a rant? My bad.
Anyway, Borat is selected to go to the United States and report on things in the American culture that can benefit his homeland. So, with his pudgy government handler/producer/cameraman Azamat in tow, he makes the journey to New York.
I have no idea if the reactions Borat got from New Yorkers are real or not. Then again, I've never tried to kiss a New Yorker on the face. Or lost my chicken on the subway.
New York is a bust. Whether it's meeting with a comedy coach or a group of humorless feminists, Borat's not quite getting through to his American contacts. Then, something amazing happens.
Borat sees a rerun of Baywatch on the hotel TV. And falls head over heels in love with Pamela Anderson.
Borat throws away his itinerary and decides to travel to California to marry his Pamela. He convinces his handler that they can report on the real America while they make their way across the country.

Does Borat find the real America? Well, if the real America is intolerant yokels at a rodeo, drunken racist frat boys, bigoted Southern socialites or nonsense-spewing Pentecostals at a revival meeting, the answer is yes.
Granted all of these types of people DO exist. Hell, there are just as many rednecks in the Midwest as there are in the South (though none of them up here would think that a "SECESSION: IT'S THE RIGHT THING TO DO!" bumper sticker belonged on their truck's bumper).
As social commentary, Borat can somehow juggle being subtle and yet also incredibly broad at the same time. Borat can make a crude comment that forces his American hosts to reveal flaws in their character. He can pull a Jerry Lewis pratfall in a antique store or have a very graphic naked wrestling match with a man in the middle of a management conference just as well as he can take the piss of a dinner party full of snobs by inviting a black prostitute or sneak anti-war commentary into an incendiary speech to a crowd of good ol' boys. He can do something in a plastic bag that might just be untoward in polite society and give it to a prim and proper hostess. And he does it all without ever giving up his poker face.
The combination of pseudo-documentary footage and the narrative story should be jarring. But it's not. The line between fiction and reality blurs as easily as Cohen adopts his Kazakh persona. Somehow, they manage to wrap reality segments seamlessly into the narrative movie.
The more I thought about what was happening, the more I questioned the reality of it. How can Cohen be so brilliant at setting people up to show what bigoted nitwits they are? How can he be exactly at the right place at the right time so often? And how does he manage to escape from so many of these situations without major bodily injury from the people he's offended? Was the whole film just an elaborate ruse?

Some time during the movie, I gave up caring what was real and what wasn't, because I was emotionally invested in this mad trek across the nation. I actually wanted Borat to meet Pamela Anderson and marry her in the traditional Kazakh manner. I wanted him to bring back all of the best of America to make glorious benefit for the Kazakh people. I'd bought hook, line and sinker into the cinematic reality just as much as the real people that Borat deceives.
Afterwards, as the miniscule crowd filed out, I noticed something. Everyone was still laughing. It says something good about a comedy when you're not quite done with your laughter even after the credits are over.

Borat is wonderful, intelligent, subversive and also likely to be deeply offensive to quite a few people. Hopefully those people will pull their heads out of their keisters and figure out the joke.
The more I think about it, the more I enjoy Borat. Unfortunately, I want to see it again, with a proper audience. And I have to wait until November to do that. Frankly, that sucks more ass than a Kazakhstan street whore.

( Click here to see! )

You ever have one of those perfect moments?
Where, just at that tiny moment, everything in the universe just aligns and all is right?
How about one where you do something utterly ridiculous in public without any fear of embarassment just because it's utterly the right thing to do at that given moment at that precise spot in the cosmic tapestry?
I had one of those moments sitting on the bus yesterday listening to my iPod when I just HAD to play the drum line to Smashing Pumpkins' "Cherub Rock". I didn't give a fuck who was watching. I just HAD to do it. It's a good Jimmy Chamberlain bit, and it's not so complex that a mediocre drummer such as myself wouldn't be able to play it. I'm no Omar Hakim, folks.
I came away from that brief moment feeling energized, happy and certain that everything was pretty damn great. Who cares if people thought I was a spaz?
More people should have moments like that more often.

According to AICN, the WB has an Aquaman for their new series, ala Smallville:
Will Toale

Well, at least he looks...shall we say fey...enough to wear the orange shirt...

OK. What gives?
When exactly did it become a capital crime to wish someone a Merry Christmas? (I'd like to note that this sentence originally contained no less than three F-bombs. But, in the interests of this message being passed along -- as several of my rants have, I'm keeping it somewhat family friendly.)
The big topic of conversation in this 'burg of late has been all about how "Happy Holidays" has replaced "Merry Christmas" because it's more politically correct. What's up with that? Since when is it wrong to be nice to someone?
People are actually AFRAID to say Merry Christmas to people now. People are so damned afraid to offend someone that they don't feel comfortable using what's become a secular phrase to wish them well at the closing of the year. Christmas has a religious antecedent and some form of religious connotation, but it's not a religious holiday. Not any more.
I realize that there are other holiday celebrations going on. Every single world culture has a year-end gift-giving holiday or festival. Every single one. The idea to celebrate the year's blessings by gathering with family, or by giving of yourself to others, is universal. The Japanese didn't have a name for their tradition -- it was simply called "Year End Gifts" until they appropriated the Christmas tag.
Christmas, as a term and as a concept, has outgrown Christianity. It's fully established itself as a secular holiday. Yes, there are religious roots to the name and to the holiday itself. But, it's grown beyond that. Let's face it...when Sears published the first Christmas Catalog and ushered in the age of commercialism, Christmas began pulling away from its sacred origins.
Heck, Santa Claus hasn't been a religious figure for nearly a century. How many people do you know who actually know the story of St Nicholas? But, every single person who doesn't know the Christian myth of St Nick can recite the lyrics to "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer". See what I'm talking about? The holiday has lost its holy luster. It's truly a secular day, which means that EVERYONE can take part. Hell, I know a Jewish person who puts up a Christmas tree every year because she enjoys the decorations. Another symbol bites the dust.
Christmas isn't the property of Christians any more. I'm hereby claiming the holiday on behalf of the secular majority. I'm hereby reclaiming the Christmas Spirit on behalf of mankind. I've drawn a line in the snow, and I'm daring you all to cross it.
There's nothing uniquely Christian about wishing for peace on earth and goodwill to all mankind. Especially not how the Religious Right sees Christianity at this point. So, I'm taking those principles from them. They don't believe in them, so they hereby cede claim to the Christmas holiday and the Christmas Spirit.
If someone happens to be a Christian and wants to actually feel that Christmas Spirit, more power to 'em. In fact, I'd encourage that, as it might inspire other Christians to actually begin adhering to the principles that they were supposed to believe anyway. Charity and peace and good will are fantastic ideals. Too bad the Fundies don't believe in them.
Don't be afraid to wish someone a Merry Christmas. Or a Joyeux Noel. Or a Happy Hanukkah. Or whatever. Claim a holiday, and live the holiday spirit. Not just through December, but throughout the year. Every day is cause for celebration, and occasionally, it takes a special day like Christmas to rekindle that fire in our hearts.
Merry Christmas!