In case you missed it, or somehow blissfully ignored the facts around you, it's Christmas time. Ah Christmas, the time of year where we huddle into the shopping centers across our great nation and develop the flu from the cashier forced to work because she can't afford to take the evening off. Little Johnny after all needs his stuffed Donald Duck collector dish set. So we deal with the lines and horrid music hoping to drink ourselves into a coma long enough to wake sometime in March.
It's not all bad though. Christmas has developed around the concept of fear. As adults, we tell our children that they should behave or face the wrath of a fat white man with the ability to enter their house at will. Their reward for good behavior is their desired toy while their punishment is a stocking full of coal. That's right, coal. While this fossil fuel might have stuck fear in the heart of 18th century farmhands, the idea of coal for some odd reason no longer strikes fear into the hearts of our youth.
So why do we do it?
Maybe through all the cynicism of the world it's nice to have one day a year where we can sit back and smile drunkenly ahead, thankful for the gifts of family. This veneer of optimism quickly evaporates as Uncle Charlie tumbles face first into the corner of the dinner table, spilling his cranial contents into the dinner that took five hours to prepare. As he mumbles his final request for cremation, we can sit back and smile in the fact that we can now safely return the turtle neck sweater we never wanted in the first place. Tis the magical season after all.
I've decided to celebrate this holiday with a very special spiced rum version of Justify Your Crap. This time around, we look at the holiday classic Santa vs. the Martians. Have a safe and meaningful holiday season and remember to look offended when the sales clerk wishes you a Merry Christmas. You might just cost some low wage worker their job, and that's better then any gift card.
Yours in the Bitter Season of Joy,
Stevehen J. Warren
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