1991 was a pretty eventful year for the United States. Nirvana released their legendary masterpiece of an album “Nevermind” that arguably started the grunge movement in America, some of the best films released in my lifetime such as Terminator 2: Judgement Day, The Silence of the Lambs, and Hook were released to moviegoing audiences worldwide, and let us not forget George H.W. Bush’s Gulf War campaign to take the once-nuclear-capable nation of Iraq and turn them into the impotent pieces of sand dwelling shit that we decided to attack again 10 years later.

Yeah, 1991 was pretty great, but the best time of year always started just a little bit after Thanksgiving. After the Turkey-bloated gluttony was becoming a fading memory and the last of the leftover sandwiches dissolved away into the stomachs of midnight snackers everywhere, the gaping hole in peoples’ lives was about to be filled with the most magical time of year: Christmas.

However, not being an irrational religious peon, I always found Christmas to be less about christ and more about Presents. In fact, that’s the very reason I capitalized “Presents” and lower-cased “christ.” The presents always had much more spiritual significance than some middle eastern faker who duped idiotic early men into thinking he was an extension of the non-existent invisible man in the sky. All that aside, presents were the most important part of my childhood.

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