Getting a Christmas Tree

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I live in Oregon which is the capitol of the world for Christmas trees. There are huge fields of Christmas trees all over the place and I have heard that they send them all over the world even to countries who don’t believe in God like America does. This is probably a CIA thing to infilterize those countries to get them to go shopping like the God-fearing countries do due to the fact that once they start shopping they can’t stop America from sending stuff made in China for them to buy. It’s a pretty good plan if you think about it, but I can’t take it from the bank since I am more into metaphysical issues than clandestinated ones.

When Christmas comes my family likes to get a real one that they make me go find and cut down myself from some field. This is not exactly my favorite thing to do if you want my opinion of it. Mostly it is muddy and raining and cold and you end up trumping all over the field trying to find a tree that will fit into your house, not like the time my wife went to get one when I was in some other country which she did but it was 20 feet tall and had to be chainsawed off at least three times just to get it in our house and then it was still so tall that it fell over and so when I got home and after I yelled a little bit I had to wire that stupid tree up so it wouldn’t kill somebody. I learned my lesson on that, let me tell you, and so I never let my wife pick out the Christmas tree anymore. So that means that I have to go trumping out in the mud my own self  and get all dirty and sappy from the trees and end up smelling like a Christmas tree for weeks which may seem like a cool thing to you but you can have it is all I have to say about it.

Anyway, last year I went out with my kid to get a tree since everybody in my house was harping about it. It was raining like crazy like it usually does in Oregon when you have to trump out in the field to cut a tree. So I was driving by this little Christmas tree place in the parking lot just behind the Good Will and I thought to myself that I could pick up a tree lickity split right there and not even get dirty and my wife wouldn’t even know that I didn’t cut it down in some stupid muddy field. But I had my kid with me who has always had a case of terminal honesty mostly due to the fact that we drilled it into him so we’d know when he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to. Some people think that’s a good thing which it is if you’re not the one who did something you weren’t  supposed to which goes to show that honesty is only the best policy if you’re the parent.

Well, I told my kid that since this was Oregon all the the trees in the lot were from a muddy field anyway and made him promise not to tell his mom where we got the tree, and in ten minutes I had picked up a tree and was on my way home like nobody’s business except I drove around for about an hour to make it look like I had done the right thing. Everybody seemed to like the tree even if it was a scam I played on them.

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