A long time ago Santa bought me a Homer Simpson bottle opener. It was right at the bottom of my hung by the fire Christmas stocking. The rest of the stocking was filled with a big bottle of Anarchist Ale. When I opened the big beer Homer said, "Woo-hoo!" and made beer drinking noises. Santa knows what I like. And I am never bad enough to not get a little beer from him.
For a while there I thought I was losing the voice of Homer. His voice was getting slower and slower and sometimes he could not complete his funny little Ode To Beer. Just like a big as a Hollywood Christmas movie the Homer opener has made a miraculous recovery.
There is a problem with this miracle however. Now Homer, "Woo-hoos" from the drawer whenever the fat bastard comic American feels like it. My beer opener has dementia. Will I be next?
Sonja says, "I'm throwing that motherfucking opener out before it drives me nuts."
"Hey," I respond, "You can't throw that out. Santa gave it to me for Christmas."
Sonja looked at me like Marge when she thinks Homer is an asshole. "Fuck Santa. That opener is going."
Looks like the Homer opener is going to have to take up residence in my fishing kit. Do not want to piss off Santa: the jolly old doper might stop bringing me beer for Christmas.