Holiday Letter 2016

Deflated Tidings,

I know you’re all awaiting our upbeat holiday news from winsome Western Massachusetts. Regret to report that we end 2016 in severe post-election shock. An unholy macro-aggression has been perpetrated against our New England progressive pseudo-peace.

Decided to try growing magic mushrooms on our mulch farm. Psilocybin is said to ward off acute TTSD (Traumatic Trump Stress Disorder). Zelda’s a zombie, yanking weeds in her purple bathrobe at dawn. Our manboy Moonbeam was last seen buried under Bernie signs in the basement months ago. So. I hang out with Meph the cat in the frontyard pigpen scooping poop for hours on end.

Back in our old burg, Silent H, the Lord Jeffs have been tomahawked. So to speak. And Hampshire College has banned the American flag. Some solace. Still blessed to live in the Happy Valley of safe spaces.

More good news. Cranky next door neighbors moved to NYC. They’ve been replaced by a young couple from L.A. Hope we can coerce these neophytes into cutting down all their sugar maples for our photovoltaic benefit. Anyway. If you see our crabby former neighbors in the Big Apple, tell them they are missing out on all the fun in the old ‘hood.

Until next year,

The Bidrights
Pronounced H, Massachusetts

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