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2 weeks
Christmas is two weeks away. You know, that holiday where everybody gets together and pretends to be happy for one day out of the year and then goes back to their miserable existences because they aren’t “forced” to be happy anymore because they’ve got a whole ‘nother 365 days until the next facade of a family togetherness feeling mixed in with cheap box whine and gifts you never really wanted so you’ll return the next day but pretend to still have whatever it is that you didn’t want still hanging in your room?
Christmas?!
Yeah, that holiday. It’s just around the corner. Prepare yourself for the eventual flood of bricks of inedible mixtures of candy and whatever else is in it known as Fruit Cake. Get ready for the holiday rush and the traffic jams and the fist fights over the last X-box game for 9.99$ while you do the math in your head and realize that to keep your children and loved ones happy, you have to go without food for a week.
That sugar coated holiday cheer that gets in between your toes like a sick funk, and stinks for two weeks until the day is finally here and we can open our eyes at 5:00am and act happy to be awake at that God awful hour entertaining people we hope to never have to see unless some unfortunate event befalls one of them and then you have to show and do this whole dance again - only the presents are replaced with food, the smiles are replaced with tear filled frowns, and the jolly fat alcoholic who delivers the non-existence presents is replaced with a dead relative in a box you’re about to put into the ground for the rest of eternity, or until some random person comes by and decides he needs a new tuxedo.
Oh well.
Conspiracy
Christmas. Hallmark loves it - grandmothers love it - children love it, although somewhere between the gifts and the candy and the fat alcoholic with a stomach that shakes like a bowl of jelly, we forgot that instead of Rudolph, we’re supposed to be remembering that this was the day that humanity’s Saviour, as it were, was born.
On that day, in some stinking, animal infested disease ridden manger somewhere in the middle of fucking nowhere, the Saviour of all humanity was brought into this world.
And the first thing he saw - not the old guys trying to butter him up with gifts, that’s just a little too strange - were the gifts the old guys were trying to butter him up with.
So there’s a lesson in all of this. Baby Jesus knew it - now you shall know. Christmas isn’t about love, peace and harmony. That’s bullshit created the Hallmark company to sell more of their crap cards to the mass mindless public. The true meaning of Christmas is presents.
So if you don’t get any presents for your family on Christmas, they will hate you forever and Baby Jesus will condemn you to hell.
Whatever.
Merry Fucking Christmas (and a happy new year). Two weeks early, from me to you.