Icelandic Christmastime Blues

Totally Unrelated Christmas Harem Pic

Goodie-goodie… Christmas is over. And what a fucking Christmas it has been!

You might wonder why yours truly has not blogged nuthin’ for almost all of this month.

It’s because I was in fucking Iceland! Bankrupt decrepit Iceland!

Early this month my pal Ray, who lives in Oceanside, called me up and asked me to come over. When I got to his Pacific Street place he told me that his ex-wife had secretly upped and moved with his two young kids to her home country of Iceland in order to, essentially, spite him. She took the law into her own hands instead of taking it to Divorce Court, giving Ray an international child abduction as an early Christmas present.

So Ray said he was going to Iceland to get his kids back. And I asked him if he wanted some company. The next morning, we landed at Keflavik with wads of cash in hand, ready to hire a lawyer. I told Ray that we should go all Warren Zevon on that bitch and get some guns too, but Ray is much more calm than I am and decided to cap the effort at lawyers and money.

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Anyway… it was not a pleasant experience. It is not so easy to be on the receiving end of an international-child-abduction-for-spite thing. Ray, of course, is the innocent bystander who just got stuck in the mess, and now he’s certainly down on his luck in an emotional sense. And the Icelandic justice system moves slow at Christmastime, mostly because everyone involved is in a stage of either drunkenness or bitter depression.

Icelandic Lawyers in their Natural Habitat

The issue will take months to resolve. Months of legal wrangling. And Ray will be cut off from his children in the meantime. Of course he is distraught about it. I told Ray that he shouldn’t force himself into pain and sorrow like there is no tomorrow. But he should use the pain and sorrow to fill him up with power because, after all, life is both sweet and sour.

Ray gave me an evil look. Must have reminded him of his ex-wife or something like that.

Iceland was overall quite depressing. People there held a general mood as black as the December sky. It’s almost like they had known, long ago, that being the country that incubated Sigur Rós was too good to be true, and that there would be an eventual reckoning.

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The “Blue Lagoon” thing was pretty cool tho’. A little touristy but I’d still love to have a geothermal pool like this in my own backyard.

We flew back to the U.S. on Christmas Day. Ray’s kids are still being held as emotional hostages in a country that has been essentially whacked by the financial fallout.

The whole thing was so depressing that I had to go fuck a Mexican street whore (two of them, actually) on the day after Christmas to cheer myself up.

Ray is so depressed that he’ll probably need to buy himself a sex slave. I keep on telling him that he can get one of those barely-legal Mexican girls as a sex servant, and then when he’s tired of her he can just send her back in a taxi to the border. It could be a Christmas present to himself. A little human trafficking and a case of Bailey’s will make the holidays much more bearable.

But for now: I’m back! And there’s plenty of postmodern porno blogging to catch up on! Here goes…