So a retired cop friend of mine gave this to me for Christmas. It's an amazing Velcro adjustable embroidered "ICE" cap. I want to wear it so badly, but know I'll scare the natives and piss off the green haired north-easterners. Maybe stroll around Home Depot? 😁

Asbestos Hearts, Liquor is Quicker + Double Barrels: A Gen-X Christmas Story

Allow me to curb-stomp (in steel-toe boots forged from history, lawn darts, and spite) the younger generations—bless their F-R-A-G-I-L-E little hearts—who sob over every plastic “micro-aggression” while role-playing in matching reindeer onesies and live-streaming their oh-so-misguided everything for social media. Because nothing screams “fearsome warrior” like ugly-crying on camera over a wrong pronoun or a stranger's opinion. For what? I have no idea—and don't care either.

I know, I know—they weren’t even a regrettable glint in daddy’s participation-trophy eye yet. How could they possibly comprehend a real Gen-X Christmas? Buckle up, buttercups, Auntie’s about to take you for a Christmas Eve moonlight ride.

It was “curated holiday magic” for dark-humored misfits: the future leave-us-the-hell-alone, thrive-in-chaos, beautiful (and perfectly gory) agents of America. We grew brains marinated in common sense and actual real-life ...