Sound familiar? That's a sanitized version of countless unsolicited holiday family newsletters I'm bombarded with each, and every, year.
I must tell you that blasting your family news to a full database is akin to a boiler room stockbroker in Massapequa pestering that same database with insider information on a stock about to skyrocket to the heavens.
Holiday family missives are about as welcomed in my home as a scud missile in the streets of Tel Aviv.
I don't want to know that Missy bungee-jumped for the first time this past July. Nor, am I particularly saddened to read that Wolf, your ever loyal, 13-year-old Shepard had to be put down after a valiant struggle with hip dysplasia. It's a bummer but, c'mon, I wouldn't have been able to pick out Wolf in a line-up of Belgian or German shepherds.
I'm not a Scrooge. I'm a realist. I'm already overloaded with far too much junk mail, virtual or otherwise. And, I don't need any more.
In my opinion, it's family newsletters, and not the family canine, that need to be euthanized. Trust me when I say that, apart from a sister or brother, no one cares about your amazing two-week trip to Cabos and Rusty's humanitarian gesture to toss that 600-pound marlin back into the Baja's sparkling blue waters.
So, stop spamming me and everyone else on your list.
A final observation: Has anyone noticed that the very same people who push holiday newsletters your way also inundate you with unfunny jokes and sickeningly sweet YouTube videos of pooches cuddling with iguanas? Stop it. Just stop it.
Would that Santa was empowered to issue a cease-and-desist order to every well-meaning, but totally clueless, person about to summarize his, and his immediate family's, 2012 high and low lights.
Tell you what: if I'm interested, I'll let you know. Alternatively, offer me an opt-out box I can check on the bottom of the newsletter. Now, THAT would make 2013 a bright and happy new year for this blogger.