I know I often speak ill of the holidays, but there are good things that come out of them on occasion. Sometimes someone can say something so meaningful that your stress is gone, you find direction in your life, and suddenly you can make sense of this crazy world. Or, you could do what my parents did and buy me a blender.

Milkshakes. Oh yeah, milkshakes. Aint nut'n better than a milkshake. Chocolate, vanilla, mocha, I refuse to discriminate, for I embrace them all. I am an equal opportunity consumer of all things cold, thick, and creamy. There are so many race wars in our world; if only we could embrace each other the way we embrace milkshakes. Is it any coincidence that the milkshake Mecca is called Friendly's? No, it isn't. Friendly's is a place to put your hatred on the shelf and embrace inadequate service from people whose uniforms have more stains on them than a civil war actor. You look past these minor germinating details and belly up to heaven where everyone and everything is equal. Follow my lead.

I found the healing power of the milkshake while studying tantra. Actually, I wasn't really studying it, I was watching HBO's “Real Sex,” trying to spark a little fire between my lady and me, and they got to that gratuitous part that they get to in every episode where a group of middle aged men disrobe and dance together. In an attempt to rekindle the doused flame, I figured a little dessert was in order. Serenity now, from a Friendly cow.

My girl was in bliss as she seductively sipped her double mocha. I sat confidently in the booth, knowing I had found the elusive F-spot. Six months, and a few hundred dollars later, we realized our impulses had spun out of control. We had to make a choice. We had to quit, or we had to plead to our parents to enable our disease. Well, as you know, we got the blender and we refuse to kick.

Why would we? We can keep our nasty habit to ourselves. To us, you are all in a different reality. A false reality. We're living life the way it was meant to be lived…happily. Our indulgences are met while you squander for fat free dressing. Phooey to you, I'm feeling Friendly.

Before you venture into this dangerous, taboo world, I must warn you of the side effects. First, weight gain. Yep, the paunch is creamy, but the smile is wide. I'll deal with that when it gets to be a problem. The second side effect is objectification. I've found that when I drive by a farm, I look at cattle differently. I used to look at them as cute animals that could excrete in a projectile manner for my amusement at a fair, which featured sub par roller coasters; causing me to find amusement in said poop; now I only view them as meat. I stare into a moocow's glazed, milky, and confused eyes and I think of only two things…Steak and Shake. Perhaps this cow is seeking only friendship with nothing more, while I think medium rare a tad of London pub sauce, with a coffee flavored Oreo cookie Shaner blizzard. Hell yeah!

At the cost of this animal's decowinizing, (no, it's not a word, take it easy Microsoft) I've found peace in the world. I never considered myself racist, but for those with racial views, here's a tip. View all people as different flavors of milkshakes. The world will taste a whole lot better. Double thick, make it quick, I have a meeting to attend. My name is Shane, and I like milkshakes.