Of all the wonderful, deeply loved traditions that pop up around this time every year — butt-chugging eggnog, preparing the reindeer stew, napalming the ever-living shit out of the Elf on a Shelf — the one that brings us the most joy is Ralphie May’s annual pre-Christmas stint at Zanies. And then we think about May’s sex tape, satirical as it may be, and that sucks the joy right out of everything. You can’t unsee these things, folks, and now Christmas is ruined. We’re going to need to rinse our brains with gravy — delicious, salty gravy made from the tears of Dickensian orphans — just to get our holiday cheer back. And we keep hearing that the intersection at Douglas and Eighth is the new Five Points, so there’s gotta be an artisanal gravy maker working out of a storage shed right by the club.