Editor's Note: After writing this I realised the article was abit of a downer so I put in some nice Christmas themed pictured to take the edge off. This is a Christmas tree one.
So Christmas has come again. All the decorations, arbitrary present selection, suffocating crowds at the mall, incessant whirring of Band Aid, ‘Driving home for Christmas’ and every other terrible song that could only ever manage to become successful at Christmas time when the population are too full of turkey and false alcohol induced cheer to care about a single thing they buy. And Michael Buble. Alot of Michael Buble. So was it all worth it yet again? Yet again, I’m not so sure.
My dislike of Christmas starts like clockwork at Christmas Eve. Insomnia always hits me on Christmas Eve. It was once a side effect of unparalleled excitement at the prospect of free stuff, a delicious meal and Santa Claus coming in the night – an idea which I know find strange as to why this excited me and instead didn’t terrify me into sleeplessness. I think the reason Christmas is so less enjoyable now is because I’m at the age where I no longer receive the cool free stuff that once got me so excited for Christmas. Instead now I have to give gifts back and fail to do so, either through laziness or incompetence at understanding what other people like at all.
For instance I bought a woman at work a bag of ice as a secret Santa gift because it seemed funny that by the time she received it, the ice would instead be water. I realised only too late what a terrible idea this gift was and it sat in my bag at work melting for the rest of the day. It’s an embarrassing thing to have to do to explain why your bag is leaking and not demonstrate any concern at sorting it out, knowing that if you go into your bag and pull out whatever is leaking, you will also pull out a sodden gift bag with the intended recipient of the gift’s name taped onto the side. It would look mental. So you just sit there and take the staring and questions and hope that your excuses and insinuated mental instability will stop people from delving any further.
These are some presents. I hope you got lots of nice ones.
But on the other side I’m not yet in control of my own Christmas days. A Christmas where I would like to have a family of my own choosing to spend it with and also have some friends over. Where I could drink without the fear of insulting any of my family members and be at my own house and have no desire to leave for the whole day. Currently I am stuck in a sober state of spending abit of the day enjoying a meal and the rest of it running out the clock until I reach a polite enough period of time at which point I am able to excuse myself. The entire Yuletide tradition that it is a time of family is bullshit because my family are not my friends. I did not choose them, they were simply present at my time of birth and now it is my birth right to be stuck with them. This is a risky mix. Obviously sometimes it works, but if you’re looking at it in terms of you and your family being statistically compatible on a personality basis, but also having a major age gap which makes communication even harder, you’re stuck with one hell of a gamble in terms of socialising success.
I’m not entirely sure how to properly describe how my lucky dip turned out, but to use a seasonal analogy to explain what I received. It’s like I sat down at the table of life, pulled a family selection cracker with god himself and as the soggy paper came apart to the sound of a fart noise, liquid shit just started spilling from the cracker onto to the nicely set table and has been dripping out ever since. Oh and mixed in with the shit was a small piece of stained paper with a joke and a piece of trivia written on it. The joke just stated the size of my dick and the piece of trivia read that according to current statistics there is a 38.2% chance that my mum has tried anal at least once in her life. I feel sick.
Yay Santa Claus is coming to town. Ho Ho Ho.
So Christmas isn’t the happy time that it seems to be being advertised at me as. It just seems like forced fun. But not in a way like New Years is, in that yes it’s forced fun, but it’s forced fun where you get to drink alot and spend time with your friends. Forcing you to have fun stuck with your family for a day, who seem to argue incessantly and not really listen to anything anyone says is the equivalent of being force fed Imodium and then ordered to shit your pants. It’s just not compatible.
And I’m always tired for Christmas. As I said the insomnia has always been around me on Christmas Eve night. It used to be due to excitement, but now that apprehension has all but gone and now all I’m left with is the exhaustion and boredom of being up all night with nothing to do. I spent this Christmas Eve with a little glass of brandy and watching BBC Three all night, until eventually it hit its run time and went off the air. I think it’s a sad thing to realise that you’ve outlasted BBC Three and sit silently watching the screen that comes on afterwards advertising all its shows, and know inside that you want it to come back on the air just so you’ll have something to do. It’s a strange feeling to miss the worst television channel ever, when it wasn’t even making me happy. It was only providing a family guy marathon, which always gets old after a while, and then it gave me a Christmas special of ‘Don’t Tell The Bride’, a show for those of you who don’t know is a show where brides-to-be let their husbands plan their wedding for television. They then spend the rest of the air time crying and saying how they don’t want their special day to be ruined, even though they’ve decided to put it in a position where it will definitely go horribly wrong. Christmas wasn’t all bad though as that episode was a particularly hilarious one where the couple clearly disliked each other, had some deep seated resentment and then the girlfriend continued to get pissed off at how the wedding wasn’t what she wanted at all. But then lovely BBC Three went away and I was left alone again to mindlessly surf the internet.
No, I’m excited for a few years down the line. It’s just a transitional period. I know Christmas can get good again. One day I will have my perfect Christmas, a Christmas comprised of; spending time with my very few friends, playing board games, and a Christmas dinner comprised of solely items off of the McDonald’s festive menu.
A part of me even wishes that tonight of all nights is the one where I stay up the late enough to finally meet Santa Claus as he breaks into my house and continue to go all Tim Allen in ‘The Santa Claus’ on his ass. I’m pretty sure that being an omniscient being with access to magic, that Santa isn’t classed as a Homo Sapien and therefore isn’t protected under any human rights laws. After all it would explain why he’s allowed to keep those elves as slaves because if neither of them is deemed peoples, then they’re not technically slaves. You can’t arrest one animal for abusing another one, as all the numerous videos of chimps wanking themselves off with frogs has taught me.
Maybe I could even rape Santa. I mean it would be hard to bring myself to do it, but it would be a good anecdote and only punishable with minimal prison time. Not that anyone would even find out anyway. Afterall, let me leave you with a philosophical question: If a Santa Claus gets raped in the ass and nowhere is there to see it, did it even happen? Mmmm... maybe I should work for the cracker industry.
Anyway to get to the point of this whole thing, I wish Season’s Greetings to everyone who visits the site.
Merry Christmas from all the Cynics.
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