OK, we know what you're thinking.
You think that since we're the South South's alternative rag; we're also the biggest Scrooges. You think we're going to make fun of the holiday light shows, the singing Christmas trees, the thousand Nutcrackers and million bazaars.
Well, we're not. See, something happened the other night that has changed our tune.
Just as we were dozing off, we heard a clanking noise in the cafeteria at the Weekly Volcano World Headquarters. Skulking around the corner, we found our old, dead Mac Classic wavering with ghostly images and emitting a low moaning sound. "Quit it," we said, giving the plastic casing a swift shove, but the moans only grew more plaintive. Then our dot-matrix printer slowly churned out a single sheet of paper, which read: "You have mail." Trembling, our hands reached for the mouse and clicked. "You will be haunted by one Spirit," read the message from marley1785@humbug2011.com. "Don't screw up."
And then, as suddenly as the whole thing started, the computer shut down, the printer shut off, and all was quiet again.
"Bah," we said, as we trundled down the hall. "That was nothing but an undigested bit of pad thai, a blot of Harmon ale, a crumb of Puget Sound Pizza." And we plopped back on our office couches and fell asleep upon the instant.
Having sunk back into a doze, we were none too happy to awaken and find ourselves face to face with an unearthly visitor.
"Do you mind?" we said, snatching the covers from its grip, until we got a load of the figure standing above us - a life-sized Raggedy Ann doll. The doll laid a cloth hand on our arms and uttered these words: "Rise! and walk with me!"
"Cripes, do this, do that. You guys sure are pushy for being from the other side," we said, as, together, we passed through a wall.
We next stood on in the middle of Tacoma's Antique Row, circa 1960s, surrounded by a Suzy Homemaker washer and dryer, a Spirograph, a Lite Brite, a Banana Splits lunch box, Silly Putty, Shake-A-Puddin', Silly String, a pink convertible for Barbie, a Creepy Crawler Machine, and more old school gifts.
We felt so good. So righteous. So old.
And as we played with the loot our cranky, crusty selves melted into a glorious goo of good and kindness.
So, the Weekly Volcano has resolved this year that we will not shout, we will not cry, we will not pout, and we're telling you why: We've learned we can all use a little Old School Christmas in our hearts from time to time. Therefore, we present Holiday Guide Two: Old School Edition.
Guides
If they're good enough for elves, they're good enough for humans, right?
Guides
If you went Christmas shopping in the mid-1900s, you would have gone downtown.
Guides
Immigrants from Italy bonded throughout the K Street area neighborhoods in the late 1940s - now known as Tacoma Hilltop.
Guides
"Two Five Trees is kind of a flag that we've planted to draw retail dollars back downtown"
Guides
Either I go into rehab or immolate myself. Or I'm incarcerated.