Okay. So I was over due for a post and over due for a slap in the face of Christmas. Sorry again for falling off the face of the Earth. This is a little piece of a much larger conversation I've had many times. It's now been paired down to a concise bit of vitriol, which is meant to be read aloud. But I goofed around with my equipment and never videoed it. So please, as you peruse the following, read it aloud and preferably with the rushed exasperated tone of someone who has spent thirty minutes in line, who knows there are at least 45 minutes left.
I give you:
MoTheThird vs. Christmas
(Round Four):
A Christmas Rant
It’s
Christmas time. Okay…So what? Christmas is the epitome of hype. People pouting
about wanting a white holiday, while I’m waiting impatiently in lines too long
with a cart full of things I really can’t afford. As I try to figure out how to
sneak out of the back of the auditorium after Billy slash Susy finishes the
only solo I’ll even pretend to care about, if not to go home, at least for a
smoke… ‘cause hey, I’m no monster.
Then
there are the evangelical hoards touting the real meaning of Christmas as they
stab their flag on the high holy day and protest the secularization of the
birthday of a world leader who was born in the spring according to, like, every
real scholar. While the Pagans, like the Native Americans, are standing on the
outside edges of Christmas, blinking dumbly at one another, reminding
themselves that they really were there first.
But
it doesn’t really matter. ‘Cause, on Black Friday, the lady from the First Self-Righteous
Church, who’d spent just a minute too long in the queue, snapped and maced the
Pagans right out of line. Even though there was a touch of collateral damage.
They were probably “CrEasters” anyway, so whatever, “God Wills It!” And I
guess, when it comes down to it, at least they only got maced. It’s not so bad
when you downgrade it from trampled, but when you upgrade it from casual
shopping, it becomes a bit more alarming…
But
let’s get serious for a second. Christmas shopping hasn’t been casual
since…well since black Friday became “Black Friday” in the 1960s. The fact that
I, a reasonable adult, can devolve into a snarling, clawing Neanderthal of a
being, willing to knock over a pensioner and wrestle a package from the hands
the little waif of a housewife who though that her kid was more in need of the
colorful light-up noisemaker than my nephew…her mistake not mine. I make no apologies.
And
truthfully… the ego-maniacal, over stimulated, socially stunted mini-mes could
probably stand to have one less gift bursting from beneath their Tree on the 25th.
It could be their little chance to contribute to the financial health of the
family. Allowing their stress filled caretakers to accumulate that much less
debt. Magnanimity by abstinence would be the order of the day. But who am I
kidding? This is the USA! And we will not be out indulged (Except maybe by the
French). I think therefore I am entitled.
My
cart almost involuntarily moves the two new inches in line, when I realize that
if, after Billy slash Susy’s solo, and the requisite standing ovation of
one, I succumb to a coughing fit, people
will think I’m being polite when I excuse myself out of the back. I could
probably suck down two sticks of cancer before people start to think that if
I’m still coughing, I’m probably dying. Which I kind of am, so I guess I should
quit again for New Year.
Merry
Freaking Christmas
Thanks
for the card…but what did you get me?
