Until very recently, I considered using this space to write about the future, Christmas and otherwise, as a means of suggesting through gentle encouragement how we might collectively find a path through the detritus of the present. But now I find myself working remotely from the wrong side of some flooded roads, and what little cheesy insight I might have had about that noise is washed away. The future is here anyway, and most advice anyone could offer to offset its catastrophes boils down to communal planning, so — massive fart sound and sky-sized jerk-off motion — that’s obviously a nonstarter. We have always had those options but largely ignored them because we operate out of the sort of idiotically short-term and blind self-interest that gets people like Ted Cruz and Rex Bohn elected with healthy margins time and again.
This is a time for rational and devastating pessimism in the land of Schopenhauer’s hedgehog, a sad creature who must balance the desire to find company and warmth among his den-mates with the prickly pain of snuggling up to the vicious bristles of his own kind. That’s American society. We are such world-historically massive assholes that our only sense of community comes from our ability to create enough cruel infrastructure to tolerate the pungent stench of our fundamental, rotten and flatulent selfishness. If you find yourself angry at me for admitting this, just remind yourself who the fucking president is and how the idiots who lost to that criminal did so because the pain of disavowing a genocide and banning Bill “Lolita Express platinum club member” Clinton from the DNC was a greater horror to bear than acknowledging the basic humanity of Arab and Muslim people in swing states.
Happy New Year, may we all clean up our act, but don’t hold your breath. It’s a better strategy to get used to the smell.
Christmas
Ho, ho, ho. Now move along, citizen. Nothing to see here.
Friday
Dance off some of the holiday blues, booze and boo boos over at the Basement tonight, where at 9 p.m. the majestic DJ Kreepeeo is hosting a bounce takeover featuring cuts from every direction including techno, Eurodance and top o’ the pop hits. It’s $5 to get inside; everything else is up to you.
Saturday
Savage Henry Comedy Club owner Chris Durant presents his annual stand-up headlining show at 8 p.m. In addition to the aforementioned founder, you can enjoy the jolly breezes and wheezes from folks like Josh Barnes, Madison Lopez, Brandy Lara and more. Five bucks is a pretty good deal for all of this fun. However, if you want something cozier and cheaper, rewind the clock by an hour and go to catch the accordion and guitar duo Squeezebug at Cafe Mokka, where there is no cover charge to sit by the fire.
Sunday
Jeez, I don’t know, it’s the first Sunday after Christmas. What do you want from me? I got nothing. If I missed anything important, please write me a very concerned letter, cram it into your nearest time portal and send it back to when it might have mattered. Merry Christmas.
Monday
There’s an important birthday to celebrate, and no, I’m not talking about my dear middle brother’s nativity marker yesterday. It’s bandleader, tromboner, music master, clownish pro and all-around great guy James Zeller’s birthday celebration at the Arcata Playhouse tonight at 7 p.m. Expect appearances from the roster of fantastic jazz musicians who have been entertaining the crowds here at the Playhouse in the wake of the Sanctuary’s storm damage from last year, along with, I am sure, some excellent tunes. Tickets run a sliding scale $10-$30.
Tuesday
Seattle comedian Quinn Fitzgerald will be doing his thing at Siren’s Song Tavern tonight. What is that thing? You can find out by showing up at 8 p.m. with $5 fo’ the do’.
New Year’s Eve
In the spirit of an early celebration of the end of 2025, I’m going to suggest one show only. Rooster McClintock and Banjo Makes Three have something going down at the Carlo Theatre at 6 p.m., with a guaranteed landing long before the midnight end of this wretched fucking year. Sounds like a winner to me. You can pay $20 at the door like a sucka MC, or you can seek out advance tickets at Dead Reckoning and the Logger Bar for $15. Either way, there’s a raffle and a bar along with the music, so Happy New Year, kiss my ass and I’ll see you in ’26.
Collin Yeo (he/him) is actually quite fun at parties if people are throwing a good one, which no one has since 1999.
This article appears in Through Mark Larson’s Lens 2025.