John Boston | The Annual Generic Palmdale Christmas Letter — No. 387

John Boston

Don’t know why someone appointed me High Holy Crazy Glue what keeps the family together. But, it’s Christmas. As’s our tradition, I compose our annual holiday letter to those far, far away or in a mobile home park teetering dangerously over a AV flood control culvert, just so’s we keep informed of fam doings. 

Drat if I didn’t misplace Cousin Jimmy’s address in Afghanistan. Apparently, Corporal Jim still has the family slow eye, only all over his body, and overslept the escape flight out of Kabul. Seems he got himself a job with the Taliban, translating intercepted Washington D.C.B.S. into English then into Pashto. Or, as Jimmy likes to say, “Pashto, Pash-three, whatever it takes…” Ha-ha. Afghan heathens do not celebrate The Savior’s birth and grin only during beheadings. It’s a life’s pace our dear herb-addicted cousin seemingly is in sync with. 

Closer to home, Cheetah-Marleeta is pregnant. Again. Triplets. Fourth set. Uncle Mike, who had that AV community college arithmetic ciphering class, shares this totals 12 children (that we know of) when the new trio pops out come early spring. Cheets’ll now be receiving a whopping $11,000 monthly in food stamps. We kid her that you don’t have to lick them now. 

Reports are that Bobbie Joe, the desert prospector, not the credit dentist, over Lake Los Angeles way, has COVID, which, of course, is a lie. Our grubstake miner’s a shut-in and the chance of any foreign airborne particle nestling cozy in his lungs is about as great as a Turkish general getting invited to an Armenian wedding. Bobbie asked to be removed from the family secret Santa gift exchange. Permanently. Guess some lucky so-&-so won’t be getting the traditional lucky jackrabbit’s foot still bloodied and mangled from one of BJ’s clever home-made traps. 

Bobbie Joe (dentist) and Brille aren’t speaking. Birthdayed to 17, Brille is currently filled with a bad case of cliché hot rod teenage attitude, framed by a mop of frizzled Cruella de Vil dyed black-&-white hair and infected facial piercings. She showed up to Bobbie Joe’s (dentist) office, asking how much to sharpen her front teeth. Sister Buella-Latrelle, courtesy of yet another eviction, now lives in Mojave, claims her daughter Brille’s counterculture viewpoint can be squarely placed on the shoulders of that damn rap music. 

Blink’s back in the pokey. Meth. On the bright side, Blink occasionally gets to see Karen & Jesse’s boys, Chunky and Ernesto, out in the yard. K&J shared that, last visit, them boys are still dwarfs, but, good news, prison doctors may remove their hunchbacks, for free (or, courtesy of generous California taxpayers — gracias!!). Them two idiots made headlines for being the only criminals caught shoplifting $954 — a scant $4 over Cali’s legal state limit. 

Conch says hi. She asks if anyone knows what ever happened to the Democrats’ hole in the ozone layer, text her on her Free Obama Smart Phone. Conch’s sis, Big Blue Judy, got arrested for mayhem (no bail!) and will be spending the holidays as a guest of our Let’s Go Brandon! federal gov. She was lip-dragging drunk at the Littlerock DMV office Christmas party and was caught with scissors cutting tongue holes in everyone’s COVID face masks so as to improve her odds at getting French-kissed. Seems excessive, the six-year sentence. 

Heavens, the tribulations this family endures! Bitsy was also arrested, this time for soliciting sex in a case of mistaken identity. Terribly nearsighted, she thought the devout Lutheran president of Antelope Valley Trust & Sperm Bank was a migrant farm worker and our favorite toothless niece asked to exchange a moist nasty for a 75-gallon fill-up for her dually. Gas prices what they are, that works out to something like $3,200. Aunt Billy-June-Jean-Jeannie notes the going rate for The White Man’s Overbite in any of our many AV Indian casino parking lots is more akin to $15. And no. You may not offer hastily scribbled counterfeit sex gift certificates for the family exchange. (Lester says if he draws Joe Biden, he’s buying him a brain…) 

Christmas’s looking up for the Lubeadeaux family branch! Recent security camera footage revealed all 23 of the maskless them captured in a brazen smash-&-grab at the Pearblossom Mall Giorgio Armani outlet. Guess we’re all getting high-end purses this year! 

Need a bigger phone camera. Darlene’s pregnant, her ninth by 14 husbands! Not opening the mind’s door on how the heck that’s either biologically, physically or religiously possible, yoga class experience included. Again. I blame godless (are there any other kind?) Democrats and rap music. This wouldn’t’ve happened if Darlene worked in a proper and respectful cowboy bar where both kinds of music, Country and Western, are played. 

Speaking of government overreach, sweet Auntie Denise-Merle, her eight adopted children from Switzerland and the entire Rosamond Righteous Samson Baptist Church was arrested for caroling outside the Popeye’s Chicken on 23,084th Avenue. Soon as “God rest ye merry gentlemen” spilled from their lips then floated upon the cold high desert air, Highway Patrol officers cuffed them for violating First Amendment rights of possible atheists within shouting distance. Being Baptists, they’re not exactly dancing with happiness over the miscue. 

Remember Larry deJohnson? Parents are proud. Larry, or, “Larrycia” as he calls himself now, won the CIF 5A Girls Arm Wrestling Championship, identifying as trans. Dear boy. Wept with joy ’til his mascara ran. 

Grandpa Quantrill? He got duped into some elder abuse Polish pyramid scam. Spent his entire retirement savings, paying to smuggle thousands of Pole families across the border into Mexico. Still trying to connect the dots how, exactly, cash flow spigots were to burst open on that one. 

Well. For those of us on the outside, don’t forget those less fortunate in our family. Visit the prisons over the holidays. Bring smokes. And for those of us sans handicapped plates who can still bend that way — treat a loved one to a conjugal visit!  


Arm yourselves — it’s coming — and Merry Christmas!!! 

John Boston is a local (i.e., Very-Very/South-South Palmdale) writer.

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