My wife in convinced I create turmoil in my life, whenever there is not any already going on. She believes I need it. I grew up with it and I don't know how to just be happy with the way things are, I need the drama. I need my job to suck, I need my marriage to be falling apart, I need to stress out, I need to randomly get in fist fights, I need to re-associate myself with old friends who I KNOW have probelms, I need to get too drunk and make poor life choices with the occassional completely willing young woman. I need this. I need this???? Really?

My dad is criminal who goes years without speaking to me. When he speaks, he ruins my life or borrows money.

My mom is an ex-junkie married to an alcoholic who hated me most of my life but now needs my help and my money but won't leave the husband.

My grandma is dead and her estate is in shambles.

My mom's 58 year old brother dropped dead out of the clear blue sky for no reason a week ago.

The economy is in the shitter and I'm a small business owner.

I think I"ve fucked my wife twice this summer.

I so don't need this.

Agios Nikolaus. Born in A.D. 270 in Patara, Lycia. Its part of Turkey now, but back then it was a Greek-speaking province of the Roman Empire.

By that point in history, worship of the old Roman gods had gradually waned in favor of "Sol Invictus", the "Unconquered Sun", he who was born with a halo of light on December 25th. If that last date sounds suspiciously familiar, bear with me, it gets better.

The story of Jesus was already spreading around the Mediterranean like a does of the clap and the Roman emperor Constantine didn't need a weather vane to see which way the wind was blowing.

He declared that Christianity become the official state religion of the Roman Empire (forget the fact he himself did not convert to Christianity until he lie on his death bed, drawing his last breath) cannily combining the existing - albeit contradictory, accounts of the life of Jesus with the mythology of Invictus.

Now this Agios Nikolaus (remember him form the beginning of this story?) the Turkish guy, he was subsequently appointed the Bishop of Myra, where he earned a reputation for charity, benevolence and anonymous gift-giving. Not to mention the odd miracle here and there.

Revered as a saint after his death in A.D. 343, his remains were entombed in Myra until the Saracens invaded in the 11th century whereupon the faithful shipped his bones over to the Basilica Di San Nicola in Bari, Italy. Where they remain to this day.

San Nicola being Italian of course, for Saint Nicholas, AKA, Santa Claus.

When you do the research, you usually find that what the masses believe isn't exactly the truth, the problem is that people today aren't really interested in the research.

Somehow this story relates to why I hate politicians, and is brought to mind by the current presidential race.

I know, weirdo.