I'm putting this piece, written by the great Heather Havrilesky, here for safekeeping, because I don't trust how long the defunct suck.com will be around.
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for 20 December 2000. Updated every WEEKDAY.
Every Moo down in Mooville like Christmas a lot...
But the Yinch who lived just north of Mooville, did NOT!
The Yinch hated Christmas! The whole shopping season!
Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.
It could be his dad, who withheld his emotions,
or his mom's addiction to prescription potions.
It could be his sister, so bossy and mean,
It could be his brother, who was a big queen!
Or the whole family's dysfunctional dealings!
They gripe and they grumble, but hold in their feelings!
Self-conscious and passive aggressive — so prickly!
No therapy for them! They'd rather stay sickly!
The Yinch, in a pinch, was a bitter young shrew
His family was typical. What can you do?
No one grows up in blissful harmony,
And blaming your family is sooo '93!
If mom didn't beat him with a wire hanger,
Then why did the Yinch have such trouble with anger?
It could be his anger, it grew out of fear,
It could be he hadn't worked out in a year.
It could be his fear, it grew out of guilt,
It could be his body was taxed to the hilt
Because he drank only strong coffee and wine
and chainsmoked Marlboros (the non-filtered kind!)
It could be all the Russian authors he read
Dostoevsky, Chekov - all of them, dead!
It could be the art films - man, he'd seen a bunch!
It could be the websites he read during lunch.
It could be an excess of trivial pop knowledge.
It could be the Ritalin he snorted in college!
It could be his long lack of booty, of beddings,
of poontang, of ass (except sometimes at weddings).
It could be the screenplay he once tried to write.
Or that anger (which grew from his shame and his fright).
One thing's for certain, that Yinch just ain't right!
The Yinch, he ain't right. But please, don't forget --
He hadn't had his quadruple latté yet!
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!
The Yinch was enraged, undone by frustration.
"Conformist consumers! Pawns of the corp'ration!"
His sick mind was racing, he was pacing too quick
The ignorant bliss of the Moos made him sick!
"High capitalism will crush them in time,
Until then, they'll pay out, 7% + prime!
They'll yield to temptation, give in to seduction,
by the slick owners of the means of production!"
The Yinch sneered, and recklessly wielded the knowledge
he picked up in Marxism class, back in college.
What was wrong with the Moos? Why were they so lame?
So obsessed with money, with stuff, and with fame?
Did they have ADD (back before you could fix it)?
Did their brains die from listening to too much Limp Bizkit?
The Yinch thought of the Moos, and it brought him to tears,
They watched Jerry Springer! They loved Britney Spears!
They watched pro wrestling! They ate at Burger Doodle!
They bought little sweaters to put on their poodles!
"Damn it, I've taken this crap for too long!
I must stop this Christmas - it's just downright WRONG!"
"Conformist consumers! Pawns of the corp'ration!"
His sick mind was racing, he was pacing too quick
The ignorant bliss of the Moos made him sick!
"High capitalism will crush them in time,
Until then, they'll pay out, 7% + prime!
They'll yield to temptation, give in to seduction,
by the slick owners of the means of production!"
The Yinch sneered, and recklessly wielded the knowledge
he picked up in Marxism class, back in college.
What was wrong with the Moos? Why were they so lame?
So obsessed with money, with stuff, and with fame?
Did they have ADD (back before you could fix it)?
Did their brains die from listening to too much Limp Bizkit?
The Yinch thought of the Moos, and it brought him to tears,
They watched Jerry Springer! They loved Britney Spears!
They watched pro wrestling! They ate at Burger Doodle!
They bought little sweaters to put on their poodles!
"Damn it, I've taken this crap for too long!
I must stop this Christmas - it's just downright WRONG!"
The Yinch sat and pondered a quick plan of action,
to teach a lesson to that carefree Moo faction.
The Yinch, he ain't right, but please keep in mind,
He hadn't yet smoked his daily dose of kind.
The Yinch took a deep breath and made a quick vow,
"I'll show those Moos who's who and what's what - and how!
I'll key their SUVs! I'll poison their toffee!
But first I think I'll make myself some strong coffee."
The Yinch made some coffee, he thought as he sipped,
He sipped and he pondered, he quibbled and quipped,
but nothing emerged then, no plan was quite right.
But maybe a bong hit would bring fresh insight!
A bong hit! That's it! Like a loud thunder clap!
So he did a bong hit - and then took a nap.
And when he awoke, he was feeling less heady
He said to himself, "Ah, yes. Now, I am ready."
He thought till he ached, and he ached till he slouched,
And soon he couldn't get up from the couch.
"I really must figure this out! Now I'm serious!"
He screamed at the ceiling. Soon he felt delirious.
His weak little stomach was tied up in knots!
He tried but he just could not focus his thoughts!
He moaned and he seethed and he gritted his teeth,
But found himself thinking about Yasmine Bleeth.
And finally, when his thoughts made him too ill
He got in his Lexus and drove to Mooville!
Sad, no? To witness such arcane rebellion!
He fancied himself a real upstart, a hellion,
A renegade who knows the world is no-fair!
(One with special needs when it comes to skin care).
The Yinch wasn't right - but please let's remember
Whose skin isn't itchy and dry in December?
The Yinch parked his Lexus, strode into the mall,
vowing to snicker at Moos, one and all,
But first made a quick stop at the drugstore.
He ignored the carols and marched to Isle Four.
There they were! Towering shelves filled with potions!
They smelled like pears, like almonds, like ocean!
Juniper, rosemary, melon - the smells!
And beautiful jars! Oh, yes! Packaging sells!
He gazed at the choices, a pondering gaze,
And soon he fell into a consumer haze.
"Excuse me!" he heard and the spell it was broken,
He started, he stumbled, a girl Moo had spoken!
And which Moo spoke up in a voice downright snotty?
Mindy Sue Moo, an incredible hottie!
"You're in my way." she chirped, cute as a bee,
and reached for something pricey and paba-free.
The Yinch was immobile! He sweated and gasped!
This angel, this vision! He stuttered and rasped!
To anyone normal, he'd sound like a jerk.
To anyone healthy, he'd sound like a creep.
They'd laugh in his face and drive off in their Jeep
But Mindy Sue Moo saw the look on his face
and knew that he didn't belong in this place
He didn't belong anywhere at all
Least of all Mooville, least of all at the mall!
And then, deep inside sweet Mindy Sue's mind
She knew that she loved him. Ah, well, love is blind.
We all like an outcast, one way or another,
Someone to take care of, someone to smother!
Someone to squeeze, if you please, till they yelp!
Especially someone who really needs help.
The Yinch needed love, it was clear as the day,
and he needed lotion, something by Almay,
and a good face mask, and sweet-smelling soap
to lift off the toxins left by all that dope.
The Yinch was in ecstasy, and so he heeded
This Mindy Sue Moo - she knew just what he needed!
He mooned and he swooned, he was deep in her thrall,
He followed her this way and that, through the mall!
Some cucumber things that you put on your eyes!
A Chic-Fil-A sandwich, some super-size fries!
An Orange Julius, some sour gummy worms
(And he used to fear candy bins full of germs!)
A warm terry robe, a cup of green tea,
and a brand new Shania Twain CD!
(Her lyrics really are touching, you see).
They'd laugh in his face and drive off in their Jeep
But Mindy Sue Moo saw the look on his face
and knew that he didn't belong in this place
He didn't belong anywhere at all
Least of all Mooville, least of all at the mall!
And then, deep inside sweet Mindy Sue's mind
She knew that she loved him. Ah, well, love is blind.
We all like an outcast, one way or another,
Someone to take care of, someone to smother!
Someone to squeeze, if you please, till they yelp!
Especially someone who really needs help.
The Yinch needed love, it was clear as the day,
and he needed lotion, something by Almay,
and a good face mask, and sweet-smelling soap
to lift off the toxins left by all that dope.
The Yinch was in ecstasy, and so he heeded
This Mindy Sue Moo - she knew just what he needed!
He mooned and he swooned, he was deep in her thrall,
He followed her this way and that, through the mall!
Some cucumber things that you put on your eyes!
A Chic-Fil-A sandwich, some super-size fries!
An Orange Julius, some sour gummy worms
(And he used to fear candy bins full of germs!)
A warm terry robe, a cup of green tea,
and a brand new Shania Twain CD!
(Her lyrics really are touching, you see).
The Yinch, he was babbling - let's not act above it
for any thing's glad to find some thing who'll love it!
So the Yinch learned, through his Moo friend so fair,
He was way too self-conscious, but not self-aware!
He'd projected his self-hatred onto the Moos
for doing the things that he wished he could do,
Like shopping and singing, and having good sex,
And watching bad movies, and eating Tex-Mex!
Behind every cynic is a hopeful thing
who believes in Christmas, and cheap-looking rings,
like the one The Yinch bought for his Moo girl
A cheesy engagement, a trip 'round the world,
And long years surrounded by mountains of stuff,
(No man is an island, no Yinch is that tough!
and everyone sort of wants loads of dumb crap
from Target and Z Gallerie and The Gap!)
And...
No matter how snide we are, how old or crusty,
We all need some love from a girl warm and lusty
And maybe she's goofy, or awkward or tacky,
At least she's no cynic, she's sweet and lipsmacky!
Yes, the Yinch wed a Moo. It's strange but it's true.
And all that was hopeless is sparkling and new!
(At least till they fought, and then brought out the tissues,
which was sure to come, given their deeper issues)
But for now, they'd be happy as you please
Yinches ~need~ Moos!**
(** = and strong booze, and good cheese)
He was way too self-conscious, but not self-aware!
He'd projected his self-hatred onto the Moos
for doing the things that he wished he could do,
Like shopping and singing, and having good sex,
And watching bad movies, and eating Tex-Mex!
Behind every cynic is a hopeful thing
who believes in Christmas, and cheap-looking rings,
like the one The Yinch bought for his Moo girl
A cheesy engagement, a trip 'round the world,
And long years surrounded by mountains of stuff,
(No man is an island, no Yinch is that tough!
and everyone sort of wants loads of dumb crap
from Target and Z Gallerie and The Gap!)
And...
No matter how snide we are, how old or crusty,
We all need some love from a girl warm and lusty
And maybe she's goofy, or awkward or tacky,
At least she's no cynic, she's sweet and lipsmacky!
Yes, the Yinch wed a Moo. It's strange but it's true.
And all that was hopeless is sparkling and new!
(At least till they fought, and then brought out the tissues,
which was sure to come, given their deeper issues)
But for now, they'd be happy as you please
Yinches ~need~ Moos!**
(** = and strong booze, and good cheese)
THE MORAL:
You can't change your family, you can't change your past,
But if you're a Yinch then you'd better learn, fast.
Stop bitching and moaning, stop groaning and seething,
Stop talking, start doing, start living, start breathing!
Bring on the good sex, the Tex Mex, the beer,
and read a good book, and be glad that you're here!
Go on. Call it cheesy, or mainstream, or sappy,
But if you're a jerk, you gotta work to be happy!
You can't change your family, you can't change your past,
But if you're a Yinch then you'd better learn, fast.
Stop bitching and moaning, stop groaning and seething,
Stop talking, start doing, start living, start breathing!
Bring on the good sex, the Tex Mex, the beer,
and read a good book, and be glad that you're here!
Go on. Call it cheesy, or mainstream, or sappy,
But if you're a jerk, you gotta work to be happy!
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