Here We Go Again
I posted a rant about Black Friday about a week ago, and in true BrainRants’ brain fashion, I just now remembered the other major gripe I had that day when I wrote. Typical. Between the four or five unruly voices in my head and the need to keep overwhelming amounts of information crammed in there for immediate retrieval, simple tasks like pissing, keeping my heart beating, and remembering simple shit become major operations.
Anyway, the shit that is sandpapering my balls today is the Christmas Holiday. Every fucking year, it’s the same shit, and because there’s money to be made on it, we have to endure this fuckwittery for almost a month immediately after I wake up from my Thanksgiving tryptophan coma. I normally hit this time of year and quickly scream, “What, already!? We just did this shit!” It is precisely the entire commercialism-driven mania that puts Chrismas way down at the bottom of my list of favorite holidays. Yes, even underneath Columbus Day (and I’m not remotely Portuguese) and Arbor Day (trees fucking rock!). A short list of ass-chappers:
Music: There are about two Christmas songs I can endure, and not all renditions of them are really worth it. I dig Little Drummer Boy because it has a military cadence, and O Holy Night sung by Martina McBride. That’s about it. Everything else makes my neurons curl and burn. About the last thing I want my all-Disturbed-all-the-time station to break format with is Frosty the Motherfucking Snowman.
Decorations: Right, let’s not and just say we did. Stand on a ladder wearing two of everything in a stiff north wind of Arctic Canadian origin and hang tiny lights that will burn out the second I hook them all together? Sure, sounds awesome. Not. Here’s some vise-grips; pull out my fingernails and that will simulate the frostbite I’m about to get.
Feed The World: Technically this falls under music too, but so help me if I ever lose it and climb a tower with a high-power rifle and a bag of cheese sandwiches, hearing this song will be the trigger. It was stupid as fuck in the ’80’s, so why would we think it has improved with age? Explain the logic of making a donation so a Muslim kid can feel the joy of Christmas to me.
Extreme Sap: Every season it’s the same shit – “This is the story of poor little Timmy…” Stop there. It’s sad, and it’s heartbreaking that he has no arms or legs and wants to wiggle-float across the English Channel before he dies of the congential upside-down heart he has. Really. I want to know why we have to wait until Christmas to make it an issue. Don’t you think Timmy could’ve used the donations a few months ago at the beginning of Summer? Do we require Christmas in order to be kind?
Trees: Christmas trees are a pain in the ass from start to finish. Getting them tuned perfectly in the stand is a test of patience nearly beyond me. Decorating them is only fun if I’m drunk enough to try it overhand. They die four days after putting them up. I love they way they smell, so someday I’ll grow an asspile of them and then be able to enjoy them all year. I can inhale them so forcefully I’ll have needles lodged in the underside of my frontal lobe all summer.
Fabrications: We’re all fully aware that Jesus was in fact born in the Spring, and that the church moved the holiday to correspond with a pagan solstice festival, right? No? Okay, then go back and repeat life from the 5th grade forward. And do I need to mention Santa Claus?
I probably just offended half of the English-reading world with this, and in response my Give a Fuck meter just sheared off the “zero” peg. Yeah, yours truly at his best, putting the “X” back in “Xmas.”