super accelerated tubby beats with flatulent bassline support

I am nothing like a mall. I do not boast thousands of visitors per week, I don't have security that will kick your skinny skateboarding ass off my premises and, perhaps most importantly, I don't have truckloads of frilly and suggestive undergarments on display at all times.

There is perhaps one way in which I am like a mall. It is this: My brain is already piping Christmas carols through its P.A. system. But they're not shitty muzak carols. They're more like this.

I will not apologize. I goddamn well like Christmas.

I am now braced for reams of anti yuletide sentiments and a full education on the wrongness of participating in an evil, empty, consumer orgy that symbolizes nothing but the hostile takeover of common sense by right wing fundamentalists who pillaged pagan spirituality to build their own religious monstrosity with which to colonize and exploit the masses. Bring it.