|It all makes sense now|
I eluded helplessly into the As Seen on TV store. I was pushed and forced into the store in an attempt to escape the gravity challenged one-time-a-year shoppers that succumb, against their will, to leave their fast food infested houses to purchase Christmas gifts. But it’s not just them. The mall is full of high school students with nothing to do and two weeks off for Holiday break. All of the little bastards with their neon pieced sunglasses and their flat brimmed hats reminding everyone how wonderful it was to have no responsibilities in the entire fucking world. I loathe teenagers like the plague. They have this cocky arrogance about them that reminds me of myself. I purposely don’t go down that road. I instead choose to hide in the only store at the supermall that never has any shoppers. The As Seen on TV Store.
Unless you’re a privileged bimbo with an unhealthy love for terrible Christmas music you’ve come to the conclusion that the Holiday’s blow. I’ll dare to be more specific. The Holiday that blows an incomprehensible amount of penis is in fact Christmas. Music not withstanding.
For one: I’m not Jewish or any other handful of religions that partake in the holiday gift-giving extravaganza. Unfortunately I made the mistake of pursuing Catholicism at an impressionably young age, and although I like the idea of the Jewish Holiday Hanukah more than my own religion’s I’ll never get “Japtized”- Jewish baptism.
(It’s a way to have disparity between baptisms. We can call the Catholic baptism “Capsized”.)
For two: Christmas is make believe, a child’s game, the trick of all tricks. Christmas is Don Draper’s Holiday. Not ours. So we need to quit falling for its shit.
We were lied to
Christmas is a Holiday built around lies and deceit. Technically, if we’re calling the bible technical, Jesus’ fucking birthday didn’t even happen on Christmas. The ass monkey was born sometime mid May.
No seriously. The bible tells us that the Shepherds were tending their sheep when Jesus was being forced out his mother’s womb. It also says that the birth took place sometime around the Roman Census. Motherfucking census’ weren’t taken mid winter. Can you imagine traveling house-to-house, farm-to-farm, mid winter, wearing sheets for clothing and riding camelback? You’d freeze your fucking balls off. No sir, that census was happening in spring. Perfect camel riding weather.
Wouldn’t you feel much warmer inside receiving a gift from someone just because they were thinking of you and not because Christmas made them think they had to think of you?
For a minute can we pretend that we weren’t programmed by ad agencies and think about what we’re shitting out our mouths? Christmas is an excuse to make American consumers purchase items they don’t need in an attempt to boost the economy, if just a little, once a year. The entire aura that is Holiday giving and seasonal love is just some marketing ploy Walter McOld-Fuck made up in the mid-eighteen hundreds. Hell, Coco Cola even invented our image of Santa Claus. That iconic bearded man in a red suit and pink cheeks your Uncle Wally kind of gets when he drinks too much “Egg Nog”, Coca Cola made that shit up.
Santa Claus Was Bullshit
Lets forget that Santa Claus is a product of a multi-billion dollar company and just remember when we believed in him as an actual person. Do you remember the pain and resentment you felt when you caught your dad putting coal in your stocking? Not only were we lied to by our religion we were lied to by our own flesh and blood. Our grandparents lied to our parents, our parents lied to us, and we lie to our kids creating a nation of dishonest soon to be politicians fabricating fairy tails to anyone that doesn’t have half the mind to think for themselves. We’re a culture of liars sculpted by Coca Cola. Who do you think is really running this country? Multi-Billion dollar companies. They’re running our holidays as well.
So take a step back this year and think, what am I celebrating? Am I celebrating family togetherness? Love? Another year finished? Lost loved ones? Not really. We’re celebrating the American economy with how many gifts we can or can’t afford this year.
I can’t afford shit.
Not for this falsified Holiday.
So cut me another slice of ham mom. I haven’t eaten for weeks.
It’s really hard right now.