The madness starts in late summer with commercials and advertisements advising the general public that they shouldn’t wait until the last minute to hoard piles of gadgets, gizmos, and all things that beep and buzz for their friends, families, coworkers, loved ones, dogs, cats, ferrets and farm animals. Jesus’ birthday is near, let the party begin.
The consumer market couldn’t have planed this pyramid scheme any better than the way it naturally worked out; ‘Jesus died, buy gifts, spread love’ is the notion we in America have self inflicted upon ourselves. Early fall comes and lights are starting to go up, millions of them across the towns, the cities; farmhouses and high rises alike, covered in glittery bright power sucking bulbs. By Thanksgiving the holidays are in full force, if you had a dietary restriction on calories you have quit carrying about it and if you had a budget to help you stockpile gold or amass the necessary items for an apocalyptic tragedy you have bailed on this plan until the first pay check of the new years; the threat of a nearing zombie overthrow has taken a backseat to the need to buy your children toys that require 15 D-Cell batteries or the wife a ring with diamonds that could cut bullet proof glass in one sweep.
On December 1st the insanity starts to set in, people are saying “happy holidays” as a greeting and parting statement. There are dead and fake trees in peoples living rooms decorated with shiny glass bulbs ornaments and multicolored lights, because after all Jesus loves shiny glass bulbs. People are giving away their moldy old clothes and holiday sweaters (that almost no one wants) they haven’t worn in years because some poor unfortunate soul could use it more. There are the commercials amping up every red blooded American that they need, yes need, to run out to the stores and shop like cheetahs on redbull tallboys, spending at least three quarters of their yearly salary in the month on gifts or they are scrooges, grinches, bad parents, terrible friends, or a horrible pet owner because Fido really wanted that red and green colored doggie treat (never-mind the color blindness of dogs).
December 15th, ten days to Christmas. The sun rises and the holiday spirit crests the hill and picks up speeds of juggernaut force, by now the battle lines have been drawn; the majority of Americans have contingency plans for who they are going to spend Christmas with. The 23rd-26th is set in stone, routes of travel are decided, children are divvied up in divorced couples, pet sitters may be found, plane tickets are purchased flagrantly, trains are boarded, boxes are shipped, yuletide logs are acquired, and Santa hats are donned.
The ten days between the 15th and Christmas Day (or as I call it C-Day) children and adults alike lose their fucking minds. This is a rare joyous occasion after all, it’s not like it happens every year or anything... There are people on the streets with bells asking for money to give to the homeless. People are spending what little money is left in their checking accounts and racking up credit card bills that an economist would have an aneurism over. There are grown men, fat jolly men, in every mall dressed up in all red with a ridiculously large fake beards asking children to sit on their laps and tell them what they want on the magical Christmas Day, their parents are normally encouraging this behavior. The delusion is taking hold on society. Hope is lost for normalcy until at least the 2nd of January.
Christmas Eve comes and insanity hits full throttle, there is no stopping this roller coaster of monetary loss and lies now. Kids are going nuts asking their parents to open their colorful piles of boxes and sacks full of what they hope is the answer to what will make them happy forever, although forever in their minds is about the lifespan of a sea monkey or maybe mosquito. Even grown men are sucked into the “Holiday Cheer” and get giddy and excited about silly colorful boxes. Parents convince their children to leave out milk and cookies so the magical fat guy from the mall can break into their house and leave gifts (this is just bad parenting in my opinion, my kids will be trained to take this Santa guy out if he breaks into our house, I don’t care if he is a Saint. Hasn’t he heard of Fedex? What an asshole.).
The next morning far before the sun rises and farmers get up to tend to cows, horses, and crops children across the globe get up early and wake up their family so they can see what the robbing thieving milk addicted Saint Nick brought them. There is much excitement from ages zero and up, there is copious amounts of violent ripping and tearing of wrapping paper and cardboard to get at their brand new shiny buzzing battery needing blinking loud expensive chinese made whatcha-ma-call-it’s. The minutes after opening gifts in a fit of shear rage is comparative to the endorphin high one receives after a particularly raunchy love making session, you sit there in awe and take in the destruction of the room. Christmas is now over. Like a recovering addict you must now reinvent your life, take down decorations, stop wearing stupid Christmas themed sweaters, and rid yourself of dead tree’s in the living room.
Happy Holidays everyone, all kidding aside.
(Originally written December 26th 2010)
The consumer market couldn’t have planed this pyramid scheme any better than the way it naturally worked out; ‘Jesus died, buy gifts, spread love’ is the notion we in America have self inflicted upon ourselves. Early fall comes and lights are starting to go up, millions of them across the towns, the cities; farmhouses and high rises alike, covered in glittery bright power sucking bulbs. By Thanksgiving the holidays are in full force, if you had a dietary restriction on calories you have quit carrying about it and if you had a budget to help you stockpile gold or amass the necessary items for an apocalyptic tragedy you have bailed on this plan until the first pay check of the new years; the threat of a nearing zombie overthrow has taken a backseat to the need to buy your children toys that require 15 D-Cell batteries or the wife a ring with diamonds that could cut bullet proof glass in one sweep.
On December 1st the insanity starts to set in, people are saying “happy holidays” as a greeting and parting statement. There are dead and fake trees in peoples living rooms decorated with shiny glass bulbs ornaments and multicolored lights, because after all Jesus loves shiny glass bulbs. People are giving away their moldy old clothes and holiday sweaters (that almost no one wants) they haven’t worn in years because some poor unfortunate soul could use it more. There are the commercials amping up every red blooded American that they need, yes need, to run out to the stores and shop like cheetahs on redbull tallboys, spending at least three quarters of their yearly salary in the month on gifts or they are scrooges, grinches, bad parents, terrible friends, or a horrible pet owner because Fido really wanted that red and green colored doggie treat (never-mind the color blindness of dogs).
December 15th, ten days to Christmas. The sun rises and the holiday spirit crests the hill and picks up speeds of juggernaut force, by now the battle lines have been drawn; the majority of Americans have contingency plans for who they are going to spend Christmas with. The 23rd-26th is set in stone, routes of travel are decided, children are divvied up in divorced couples, pet sitters may be found, plane tickets are purchased flagrantly, trains are boarded, boxes are shipped, yuletide logs are acquired, and Santa hats are donned.
The ten days between the 15th and Christmas Day (or as I call it C-Day) children and adults alike lose their fucking minds. This is a rare joyous occasion after all, it’s not like it happens every year or anything... There are people on the streets with bells asking for money to give to the homeless. People are spending what little money is left in their checking accounts and racking up credit card bills that an economist would have an aneurism over. There are grown men, fat jolly men, in every mall dressed up in all red with a ridiculously large fake beards asking children to sit on their laps and tell them what they want on the magical Christmas Day, their parents are normally encouraging this behavior. The delusion is taking hold on society. Hope is lost for normalcy until at least the 2nd of January.
Christmas Eve comes and insanity hits full throttle, there is no stopping this roller coaster of monetary loss and lies now. Kids are going nuts asking their parents to open their colorful piles of boxes and sacks full of what they hope is the answer to what will make them happy forever, although forever in their minds is about the lifespan of a sea monkey or maybe mosquito. Even grown men are sucked into the “Holiday Cheer” and get giddy and excited about silly colorful boxes. Parents convince their children to leave out milk and cookies so the magical fat guy from the mall can break into their house and leave gifts (this is just bad parenting in my opinion, my kids will be trained to take this Santa guy out if he breaks into our house, I don’t care if he is a Saint. Hasn’t he heard of Fedex? What an asshole.).
The next morning far before the sun rises and farmers get up to tend to cows, horses, and crops children across the globe get up early and wake up their family so they can see what the robbing thieving milk addicted Saint Nick brought them. There is much excitement from ages zero and up, there is copious amounts of violent ripping and tearing of wrapping paper and cardboard to get at their brand new shiny buzzing battery needing blinking loud expensive chinese made whatcha-ma-call-it’s. The minutes after opening gifts in a fit of shear rage is comparative to the endorphin high one receives after a particularly raunchy love making session, you sit there in awe and take in the destruction of the room. Christmas is now over. Like a recovering addict you must now reinvent your life, take down decorations, stop wearing stupid Christmas themed sweaters, and rid yourself of dead tree’s in the living room.
Happy Holidays everyone, all kidding aside.
(Originally written December 26th 2010)
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