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Okay, Christmas, Get Back In The Box

26 Dec

You’re awesome, I’m not joking that was cool, but it’s over now.  Let’s not embarass ourselves.  You don’t want to be the holiday version of that couple who won’t leave the party even though everyone else is already gone and so is the beer.  Don’t stand around making small talk about how much you dig other holidays, like New Year’s Eve, for instance.  Aside from a sweet stop motion movie from forty years ago, New Year’s Eve has almost nothing to do with you, Christmas.

Just take your cookies and your creepy, horror movie songs and your glittery decorations and your consumer-driven guilt wagons and get moving.  It’s time.  The rest of us need to sleep for two days and then start serious, structured barfing-and-treadmill programs and probably go to the tracks, see if we can get a pony to pay the house payment in January. 

This is more patient then we’ve been in my family for years – the tree is still up.  For years we used to yank the tree down by noon on Christmas day and then we’d literally drag it out back and set fire to it.  Nothing personal, we’d tell it, we just don’t want there to be any confusion as to what’s over and what’s not.

Christmas is over.  So now, for instance, when something normal happens to normal people – like getting robbed or mugged or grifted – then we don’t have to hear about it on the news with the words AT CHRISTMAS TIME after it. 

We all know that if you’re going to get mugged or robbed or grifted, Christmas is the time to do it, because then you can get on the news, enabling you to receive a crapload of Christmas presents from total strangers, which will then enable you to be on the news again, talking about how overwhelmed you are by the Christmas kindness of strangers.

You get mugged at Christmas and you hit the jackpot – don’t think the rest of us don’t know it, either.  Every time I see a story like that on the news, it gets my wheels turning.  Like this story right here – come on, robbed during childbirth AND at Christmas time?

That’s about as subtle as a baby shower.  Ten baby showers all at the same time, except you don’t have to plan them, just call the news, tell them what happened and then start making closet space because it’s going to rain like a Georgia strip club around here.  (I heard that phrase on NPR, so that makes me smart instead of gross).

I see these stories and I try to talk my kids into staging a robbery so we can cash in on some of that Secret Santa Christmas joy, but they’re a bunch of Christmas Kool-Aid Drinking sissies.  They have a lot of detailed theories about how oh Dad, we’ll get caught, and how oh, that’s inviting karmic trouble and how oh, it’s morally (!) wrong. 

You know, you try to raise them up, do the right thing, block the Disney channel off the cable box, but in the end they’re their own people aren’t they?  It’s like kids get in their teens and suddenly they’re WAY smarter than you about everything from computers to white collar crime to moral philosophy.

They’re like, don’t you remember that balloon guy and how his kid wasn’t really in the balloon?  And how in the modern, digital world, his lies inevitably came home to roost for all the world to see?  And I’m like, no.

What do they care?  Sitting around playing the Sims and listening to tiny, futurist Walkmans with televisions on them, not participating in insurance scams or confidence schemes with their lovable, hard-drinking old man. 

I seriously don’t even know who these kids are anymore.  Christmas used to be about rolling the squares – you guys changed.

Anyway, that’s plenty.  I ate a solid six hundred cookies this year – barely an exagerration, I almost went into the hospital one time.  You can eat cookies until your blood is so thick that your head threatens to explode with each heart beat, so try to listen any of the first eight or nine times it’s telling you to stop.

Plenty of decorations and blinking lights, too – I have some neighbors who really take this to the next level with a huge, blinking “JESUS IS LORD!” sign that they put up pointing directly at the house full of Muslims across the street.  I guess it’s better than a “MUSLIMS SUCK!” sign, but what can I say, it seems about that antagonistic.

Just seems like Jesus would keep it a little classier than that, you know?  Like if Letterman runs into Leno at a party or something – he doesn’t throw down on him.

But it’s not just Muslims in danger from Christmas decorations.  Don’t kid yourself.  Those decorations don’t care what religion you’re from – take a look at this story, accurately titled Giant Candy Cane Crushes Family’s Car.  See it’s all fun and games until something like this happens, then suddenly everybody’s like, oh we never should have hung up that giant candy cane.  When will the madness stop?  How many people have to get crushed by giant candy canes?

Everyone just sweep it all up back into the boxes where it belongs, because we’ve got a solid nine months to look forward to without hearing about any of this again.  Everyone knows Christmas ends on December 26th, and it doesn’t start up again until three weeks before Halloween.  Time to let go.

 
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Posted by on December 26, 2010 in News/Commentary, Phoning It In

 

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