So here I sit in my freezing house (thanks, Questar), home ill with some sort of mutated throat ailment. I just slicked up a plate of curry rice and am listening to Van Morrison. He's one of those guys who employs jazz in pop and it works.
I recently was directed to an Onion article by fellow JeTSaM (it's like Hebrew: insert the vowels of your choice) alum Logan "what's worse than a tornado?" Mickel. He, Sorro, my father and I were about to be served Japo-American fast food by non-Asians at the Gateway Mall in former Vagrantville, UT. The former two were headed to the SLC U2 concert, I was off to see King Kong with my pops (I sold my U2 ticks because I have a penchant for food). I vaguely reminisced the infographic on the Onion where it mentioned that the Edge betrayed Bono for 20 pieces of silver. Logan "I love throwing balls at your crotch" Mickel mentioned this little nugget.
What's the deal with people assimilating pop-culture into their own lives? Apparently, according to Logan "I would like to purchase that monkey" Mickel, there is some municipal building somewhere with a Festivus pole on the lawn. Funny? Oh, yes. But also unoriginal. Let me tell you about Hammocka.
There was once a brilliant, melancholy apostate named Jared "Shaddow" Robbins. He was my roommate, and we conceptualized Hammocka. His disdain for any holiday celebrated around the winter solstice sparked the invention of this demiholiday. Yes, unoriginal as well, but at least we invented our own traditions. For example, during the Hammocka season it is requisite for any person exiting the shower to play Nintendo while sitting in a hair-dryer chair. Anybody entering a home that celebrates Hammocka must provide sufficient proof that he/she is not a velociraptor. Instead of a jolly man dispensing gifts (e.g. Santa Claus or Hanukkah Harry), Hammocka comes with a villainous raptor named Adrian, Vallery or Ryan. 'Adrian' is more of a placeholder name; the raptor actually represents any unwanted person who persists in coming over and overstaying.
Also at Hammocka, golf tees and milk caps are attached to doorways with adhesive. This has to do with the raptor problem. Legend has it that the Hammocka raptor will smell the milk, trot over to the source and consequently become impaled on the tees.
Hammocka homes will always be decorated with, of course, a hammock. Feel free to adorn the hammock with more mainstream Christmas-style ornaments, or be creative: decorate it with pictures of Patrick Duffy or Ken. In addition to the hammock, every Hammocka home will have a Scantron machine for grading those pesky tests, a cash register, and will have their hallway papered with aluminum (tin will do) foil. Green lightbulbs to add an eerie space-station glow are commonly employed in the foil portal.
Hammockers traditionally have an unfounded hate for Canada, yet ironically, all hold official government office. For example, Shaddow was Secretary of State. I was Secretary of Defense. Our home was renamed "Space Station Canada." This is typical behavior during the season.
An optional celebratory measure of some would be to make impromptu road trips to Las Vegas to watch WCW, 311 or to get something pierced.
Hammockers will drink milk from the carton while sitting around a fake mantle, somehow procured from somebody's former stage crew operation. They will also go into chatrooms on the Internet, secretly attach themselves to the biggest asshole in said room, gang up on him and turn the everybody against this cyberbully. When he tries to go to another room, the attached will follow him, much to their own selfish delight.
Hammocka was first celebrated from the beginning of September 1997 through mid-June 1998, having only ever taken place once in all of human history. It's co-inventor brought to pass the demise of annual celebration of this holiday in April of 1999. Hammocka is now as perpetual as our celebration of Shaddow's life and friendship.
Rest in peace, Shaddow.
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