Tidings of Comfort and Joy

Well, Christmastime is here again.

For the record, today is the fifteenth of November. Twenty-two whole days from Thanksgiving. Seems like it just gets sooner and sooner every year.

It probably seems that way because that is exactly what is going on.

Now, I don't have a lot of warm fuzzy feelings about Christmas to begin with. I flatter myself that my lack of gemutlichkeit derives from different reasons than the ruck of my fellow-men.

Many people make the objection that Christmas "has become too commercialized". These tend to fall into two groups: the religious group and the non-religious group. Members of the religious group feel that the commercial nature of the modern Christmas detracts from the worship of Jesus Christ. Members of the non-religious group feel that the commercial nature of the modern Christmas detracts from the worship of Santa Claus.

I'm not thrilled about Christmas because I find it really annoying.

My father and I went to the grocery store this evening to purchase large slabs of beef. Saturdays around here are a chance to take the time to be thankful for being carnivorous.

(Aside: the grocery store in question has been pushing the hard-sell on pineapples for maybe the last three weeks. Certainly the last two.

I'm talking about a table full of pineapple that you walk past on your way into the store. I'm talking about end-caps and displays hawking canned pineapple and pineapple soda. I'm even talking about a pineapple displayed at each cash register.

Instead of saying, "did you find everything alright?" the cashiers were saying, "good evening, would you like to buy this pineapple?". They've stopped now, but it was absolutely ridiculous for a while there.)

And at the entrance of the grocery store (remember the grocery store? Dad and I are there to buy meat) there was the Salvation Army guy, with kettle and bell and tired-looking Santa hat.

And the ringing of the bell drove into my ear like an icepick, and I cursed that man, and the poor, and Christmas to boot.

You see, I don't want to be cursing strangers and the destitute and Christmas itself because I'm annoyed by a man with a bell. I want to curse strangers and the destitute and Christmas itself because I damned well feel like it. With every painful note issuing forth from that bell, a little bit of my right to be a bastard - by my own volition - was siphoned away.

And it's not just the bells. It's the Christmas songs coming across the speakers up in the ceilings of every store you're forced to go into to buy some of that commercialized Christmas fodder. When I catch myself unconsciously singing along under my breath, I die a little bit.

The houses with their over-the-top decorations, as well. Remember about five or six years ago when absolutely everybody had those icicle lights? That was bad enough, the little hive-drones. Now there are those giant air-inflated lighted Santas and polar bears and ghastly spindly-legged elves.

I especially love the one that's a giant snowglobe with stuff spinning around inside and snow-like particles circulating. I have a beautiful mental image of taking a shotgun to one of them. I refrain from doing this, because the amount of electricity they're adding to their monthly bill to keep the air going to inflate it is probably punishment enough.

And, before anyone gets an irreversibly wrong idea about me, let me say that none of these things I have said should indicate that I hate Christmas, or that I despise any show of Christmas spirit.

It's just all really annoying. I would be annoyed by these same things no matter what holiday they marked. Am I too sensitive to annoyances? Probably.

But don't think that's my problem. It is everybody's problem. If you all would stop annoying me, then you wouldn't have to deal with the consequences of my being annoyed.

Take some responsibility, people.

Oh, and Merry Christmas. Merry Very Early Christmas.