Holy shit, I know. The self-involved, narcissistic, social detractor doesn’t like Christmas. Well why the fuck would I? It’s the most retarded time of year. You do realise that a direct result of Christmas shopping is a rise in interest rates, right? Every slut and their daughter heads down to the local Westfield to spend up big on the credit card (because let’s face it, love is meaningless unless you can put a dollar value on it) to prove to their children, significant other, mistress and male equivalent of a mistress just how much they love them. It’s as if to say that your love for someone is meaningless unless it is attached to things. “I love you so much sweetheart, I bought you this giant teddy bear.” Congratulations, asshole. You love your bitch so much you bought her a massive fire hazard.
Why do we even give presents at Christmas? Does anyone even know? What the flip does a fat man in a red suit have to do with Jesus? It’s not like Santa is even something to aspire to when you really think about it. A fat, old man who lives at the North Pole. This is the kind of person we want breaking in to our houses in the dead of night to leave gifts for our children? Does anyone even want strangers to give their children gifts? I thought that was the kind of thing we taught our kids to steer away from. I’ve always been taught that the kind of person that gives a child that they don’t know gifts is also the kind of person that isn’t allowed to live within 200 metres of a school (for any international readers who don’t know what a ‘metre’ is, it’s a unit of measurement that actually makes sense).
Kiddie Fiddler alerts aside, he’s still not even a good role model. Who the fuck lives at the North Pole and then only breaks in to people’s houses at night – when they are asleep? There is obviously something wrong with this guy. He does everything humanly possible to escape contact with other people. He lives in a climate that is literally uninhabitable; he only comes to your house when you won’t see him and he doesn’t hang around to get thanked for his generosity. Worse still, every time he comes to your house he enters unlawfully. We’re clearly dealing with someone who has a VERY extreme social anxiety disorder. Don’t serial killers usually have those?
Finally, he’s one fat fuck. Every depiction you ever see of Jolly Ol’ Saint Nick has him with a massive beer gut and a very untidy white beard. He hangs out at shopping centres, but never buys anything and always smells a little funky. So it’s worse than him just being obese (and you should all know how much I hate fat people!), he looks like a homeless Vietnam Vet as well! No wonder small children cry when their parents sit them on his lap. Even at a tender age they know that something is wrong with that picture! In what other context would a responsible parent EVER let their children sit on a strange man’s lap in a supermarket and then walk off with candy that he gave them? I’m not saying that Santa is evil and he’s gonna fiddle with your children; I’m just saying it’s a very mixed message.
It’s not just the retarded notion of gift giving and sitting on the laps of questionable ex-servicemen that gives me the shits either. Although I do believe that Christmas is a highly commercialised industry with no basis on religious values, I do not intend to spend the entire article debating this widely held belief. Although, having said that, I don’t really think that Christmas has much to do with Jesus or any of that shit either. I mean, if you change the birth date of your saviour (who you’ll wind up killing anyway) to line up with the pagan festival of the people you just conquered to make the transition from one god to another a smoother period than your belief in that god obviously comes second to your belief in the idea that the more land you own the better you are. Therefore opening your whole set of beliefs up to ridicule and speculation. This paragraph may seem out of place, but to be honest, I just realised that I hadn’t taken a swipe at a major religious institution yet and I thought that needed to change.
My main gripe is more to do with family. On Christmas day the whole family piles in to the old FJ and heads over to see “the relies”. Right? Wrong. Although, as you would all know, I like to live in the 1950s where things were swell and I’m pretty sure an FJ did not exist, that’s not actually the world we live in. These days you’re lucky if your parents are still married. Actually, Scratch that. You’re lucky if your parents have realised that they actually hate each other and have gotten a divorce to save everyone the misery of married life. Usually this is awesome for the children. Mum feels bad for having an affair and leaving the family so she over-spends on celebrating occasions such as birthdays and Easter. Dad feels bad for not being able to provide a traditional, structured family unit for their children and does the same. Translation: two birthdays, two Easters and a lot of random “I saw this and thought of you” moments. This, of course, all comes crashing down at Christmas. Sure, you get two Christmases too, but both of them are shit. You spend the entire day dashing between your mum’s family, your dad’s family and if they have new spouses to abuse, their families too. It only serves to get worse when you get older because you will inevitably date someone else from a broken home, because the only thing more fun than being miserable is being miserable with someone else. So then you have to go to their parents’ houses as well. Of course, they inevitably will live on opposite sides of the city that you reside in. And every time you get to a new person’s house, the second thing out of their mouth (besides massive chunks of half chewed prawns which would kill me if they landed on me because I’m genetically weak and am allergic the only thing in the ocean that actually tastes nice) is words to the effect of, “Why are you so late?” So what does Christmas turn in to? One fucking long road trip with the final destination being the house you are in when you start the laborious trek through up to 10 way points of total and utter despair. You spend your entire day driving around to houses that contain people you don’t even like who are pissed at you for being late instead of being thankful you’re there at all and all you’re trying to do is keep everybody happy while you feel your soul slowly dying. You end up listening to all the news bulletins to try to take your mind off the fact that your air con doesn’t work and you live in the hottest city on the face of the fucking planet and every time they give you the national road toll it’s just a little bit higher than the hour before and all you can think is, “lucky bastards.” No wonder so many people commit suicide at this time of year. It’s not because they are lonely. It’s because they are surrounded by people they fucking hate.
BRAD!
