The Christmas Spirit

Ah, the most wonderful time of the year. Jingling bells decking the halls and driving me directly up the side of the wall with their bothersome yuletide carols. The snowing and bustling traffic that plagues the people of the interstate tears families apart more often than the times that they bring the families together; and who is to blame them for having to read the same exact things every thirty minutes. The thing about Christmas time is that it cannot be accomplished without eggnog and a helmet. Fun must be had with creamy sweet drinks that go very well with a holly jolly good sledding time, with some Frank Sinatra.

The perfect Christmas does not start in November right after Halloween ends. Hallmark and Walmart should get a clue and realize that though a holiday representing a futile agreement that evidently, over the course of two hundred years, ended in a savage genocide of epic proportions, but it still represents communion. Communion, in turn and through tons of irony, brings us together. Food represents more gathering than the gift of presents evokes during Christmas. And what puts me into the spirit of spending ungodly amounts of money during the equivalent of a black Friday rush during the holiday season? The capitalism that supports it all, that’s what. All my joys of Christmas past, present and future are gone now that I realize what’s really going on during the holiday to celebrate Christ.

Remember when you were a kid and you got that toy set that you always wanted and the smell of chestnuts and chocolate were always in the air? Yes, the times with ambient yuletide songs performed by Frank Sinatra. It’s the time for whimsical holidays like kwanza and other things, but it should always be remembered as a loving time rather than a selling time. How many people got murdered trying to wade through the droning masses at best buy, simply trying to get their hands on a new TV? Almost fifty people; fifty people who, instead of sitting down and showing love through appreciation, decided to get their loved ones very expensive things with money that could be used to feed them for another week.

God forbid Walmart doesn’t constantly remind people, with their incessant placement of tacky Christmas trees, littering the store with plastic tinsels. After you smell the pine that the employees ever so generously spray so much, you can’t help but think about buying a Christmas tree. Then the new member of the family decides to shed and plume its empty, sharp mane all over the floors every single room. There is no one, not even the strongest willed people that can escape the mighty pine. And what is done with the o’ mighty festive tree once Christmas is done? He gets boxed up and put underneath the stairs, forcing you to pick each prick of evil sharp leaf that he had left behind to stab each and every one of your loved family members In the foot with as a remind them that he was here.

Gosh, I just love Christmas.