Christmas, a humbug?
Surely you don't mean that, Uncle?
I do mean it! What is Christmas but a time for paying bills without money. A time for balancing books, and finding every item dead against you. A time for finding yourself a year older and not an hour richer.
If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with Merry Christmas on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart, he should. Out upon Merry Christmas. It's a Humbug.
Several years ago (hmm quite a few now), I realized that I didn't know the meaning of Christmas. I started a soul-search to try to find one. It's been over a dozen years now, and I'm still searching.
What is Christmas, if you don't count yourself a Christian? Unfortunately, I don't have any Jewish friends to tell me how they cope, getting this religious holiday crammed down their throats at every turn. Especially this year with Bill O'Reilly and the Christian Jihadists trying to obliterate any generic reference to the season. I may start vocalizing one of my favorite bumper stickers: How dare you presume I'm Christian?
What is Christmas, if you despise the crass commercialism of the holiday? Buy Buy Buy. The love of/for your family depends on how many toys, how big a diamond, where you shop, how far into debt you're willing to go. Do they love you any less in January when you don't bribe them with STUFF? What kind of love is it when it has to be bought, or reinforced, or reaffirmed with STUFF? If not, why now, and not in January, or June or any other time of the year?
What is Christmas, if you loath the blatant hypocrisy of only caring for your fellow men one day (week? month?) per year? Just watch the self-centered stampede as people storm the stores the day after thanksgiving. You think they're thinking of their fellow man? Just ask any charity how much they take in in December, and how much they take in in February, a month more bleak and cold than December. Where's the goodwill then?
So. I carry on, trying to keep spirits up, trying to at least not think too much worse of my fellow man in this "season of goodwill". Maintaining a hope that, somehow, it'll all make sense someday.
I do mean it! What is Christmas but a time for paying bills without money. A time for balancing books, and finding every item dead against you. A time for finding yourself a year older and not an hour richer.
If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with Merry Christmas on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart, he should. Out upon Merry Christmas. It's a Humbug.
Several years ago (hmm quite a few now), I realized that I didn't know the meaning of Christmas. I started a soul-search to try to find one. It's been over a dozen years now, and I'm still searching.
What is Christmas, if you don't count yourself a Christian? Unfortunately, I don't have any Jewish friends to tell me how they cope, getting this religious holiday crammed down their throats at every turn. Especially this year with Bill O'Reilly and the Christian Jihadists trying to obliterate any generic reference to the season. I may start vocalizing one of my favorite bumper stickers: How dare you presume I'm Christian?
What is Christmas, if you despise the crass commercialism of the holiday? Buy Buy Buy. The love of/for your family depends on how many toys, how big a diamond, where you shop, how far into debt you're willing to go. Do they love you any less in January when you don't bribe them with STUFF? What kind of love is it when it has to be bought, or reinforced, or reaffirmed with STUFF? If not, why now, and not in January, or June or any other time of the year?
What is Christmas, if you loath the blatant hypocrisy of only caring for your fellow men one day (week? month?) per year? Just watch the self-centered stampede as people storm the stores the day after thanksgiving. You think they're thinking of their fellow man? Just ask any charity how much they take in in December, and how much they take in in February, a month more bleak and cold than December. Where's the goodwill then?
So. I carry on, trying to keep spirits up, trying to at least not think too much worse of my fellow man in this "season of goodwill". Maintaining a hope that, somehow, it'll all make sense someday.
posted by Intothelight4now at 11:08 PM
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