DEAR GREATER ANTELOPE VALLEY & PARTS UNKNOWN FAMILY — Trust all y’all’s well, even you hailing from beyond our borders who married into the clan. Pray some of you be safe from the clutches of ICE. Do your Christmas shopping as far away from the Home Depot parking lot as holiday possible. Or, don’t.
Despite the fine strides of fiscal progress made possible by President Trump, the country’s economic recovery has yet to reach Palmdale and gasoline’s fixing to bust French perfume price levels. Of course, Cousin Blanche’s daughter, Molly McCoy-Sue, married that Somali fella Achchew which, I reckon, technically makes her Somali Molly. Achchew Anderson, his new baptismal name, is gainfully employed in some sort of food stamp/gasoline tanker hijacking scam so inflation doesn’t necessarily affect their high-elevation windswept flatlands mobile home abode. But then, you know what they say. While every Palmdale cloud does have a silver lining, you don’t want that particular complex molecule rain falling on the baby crawling in the ice puddle by the front steps in that Molly Sue indicated her stocking stuffers this year will be courtesy of a stolen United Nations powdered milk shipment previously destined to Minnesota, new corporate HQ for ISIS.
While I won’t particularly name any deity names, I shall just say, “… it is written,” for those people’s version of a merry, “ho-ho-ho …”
Uncle Clemp lost a spleen in that oil rig mishap Thanksgiving Day, second spleen this 2025. NPR is supposedly making the drive up here to interview Clempton during his stay at the clinic in Pearblossom. Mr. Achchew (FAMILY NOTE: His favorite MLB team is the Pirates!) feels it’s more newsworthy than that $8 billion fraud case up there in the land where Bullwinkle calls home.
Remember Lavontarope? The foster child? He’s home from the Army (ours) over the holidays. We’re proud of him and his initiative, setting an American Armed Service record in that he lied about his age and enlisted at the age of 9. Boy was big for his age. I’ll remind not to bring up, at Christmas Dinner at Grandma DNA’s, that Lavontarope’s last tour of duty was blowing up drug smugglers in the Caribbean and it’s murky dinner table conversation waters whether drug cartels count as “pirates” — or, the PC-preferred, “buccaneers.”
Clem and Lucretia are happier than feral piglets at an overturned KFC bin. Besides being pardoned for that unfortunate drive-through Baptist church road rage incident summer past, they were gifted with six-figure jobs registering the homeless to vote, many, many times, for our Vaseline-coiffed California governor when he unsuccessfully runs for president. Again. While Aunt Conch isn’t an attorney, she does have to keep her feet elevated, which aids in her watching an inordinate amount of “Law & Order” reruns. Legally, Conch doesn’t feel Clem and Lucretia’s pardon will stick as both Clem and Lucretia live in Nevada, where the alleged Gov. Newsom’s jurisdiction ends at the state line.
Hope I’m not speaking out of school, but we heard that our dear, elderly Auntie Garthette was eaten by aliens. Can’t say whether ’twere illegal or UFO. Either way, Garthette is not answering her phone. If any of you younger family members who are still athletic enough to wiggle under her mobile home crawl space yonder in Lake Los Angeles (billed by travel agents as, “The Palmdale of Palmdale”), do stop by and turn off the pilot on her water heater. Don’t know why her boy Luden (near-fatal acne? 18-inch forehead?) installed it sideways, on the ground, in the first place. What with gravity being what it is, seems like an invitation for the hot water to trickle out.
Loretta? Big as a Wal-Mart. Loretta’s entering her 47th month of pregnancy. We scolded. We warned. All the way back in 2021, about her flirting with being 74 and swallowing those fertility pills like they were Junior Mintz knock-offs from the 29-Cent Store Factory Outlet off Avenue 149,217. But did Loretta listen? Nosirree. Loretta justified her lingering child-birthing by another California hand-out program whereas her unborn offspring would get $2,700 for voting for Mr. Newsom for the Oval Office in 2028. Here’s a funny one. Bumped into Cousin Waylon-Bertha at the grange last week. You know. Androgenous Paiute? Wayne-Wayne Cletus’ side? W.B. said it’s not like we’re Pacific Palisades and we’re probably safe up here in Palmdale parts as we have neither trees nor shrubbery, but shared that Newsom’s Indian name is, “Fire Starter.”
Zinelda’s half-sister Tilda shared that she experienced her first “screaming and multiple magnificent romantic experiences where the Earth moved.” Unfortunately, it was on the main slot floor at the Alliklik Native American Casino on Highway 138 and she and her gentleman friend were asked to get dressed and leave. Tildy said she’s currently stitching a quilt with explosions and trains going through tunnels on the lower Soledad to commemorate the experience. Tildy says she plans to sell said commemorative bedspread at the annual Quilt Show at the Benny Dictine Monastery yonder in Valyermo and some of us feel because of the quilt’s subject matter, Tilda might be getting the heave-ho from the humorless monks with the MMA haircuts.
Homer-Rufus? The conjoined Siamese twins? Sheldonita’s boys? They ask if you draw them in the Secret Santa, don’t get them pants as they are hard to fit. They said they need shoes. Two of them.
Dotty Charlene? The overweight, tatted-up one with the purple hair and facial bolts who attends AVJC? She won’t be observing the Lord’s Birthday and is applying for Conscientious Objector status from the state. Some of us have mixed feelings. I mean, after all. It IS Christmas. But, the grape-colored one’s getting a $1,475 check from the state if she disavows her faith and votes for ol’ Fire Starter for president in ’28.
Sorry for leaving off an entire passel of Palmdale family wheresaboutses. Merry Christmas. I gotta smoke …
“Naked Came the Novelist,” John Boston’s long-awaited sequel to “Naked Came the Sasquatch,” is on sale at JohnBoston-Books.com. Boston, with 119 major writing awards, is Earth history’s most prolific humorist and satirist.
