Done With It.

December 21, 2009

It’s a little ways into January now, and I’ve had some time to reflect on the holidays and what they look like to me. Starting on the day after Thanksgiving (or “Black Friday” to all you shoppers out there) a syringe with a 6″ needle is stabbed into each of my ears, and then a steady stream of holiday music is pumped into my head on a daily basis until black blood comes out of my nose, eyes, and mouth. For the eighth December in a row I am working in a retail environment where this is an acceptable thing. It’s safe to say that I hate Christmas. Some people in the world have a hard time understanding how anybody could hate the holidays; I have a hard time understanding what makes any person above the age of twelve excited about them, and here’s a few of my reasons.

Egg nog. I am repulsed that I enjoyed it as a kid.

Christmas lights. There might be a better way to express your holiday cheer, but I’m pretty sure the best way to do it is to call attention to yourself by wasting electricity. It’s really painful for me to look at a group of trees that have been covered in tiny light bulbs and hear the question “Isn’t that so pretty?” because it’s not. The tree was pretty before it was covered in light bulbs, and the light bulbs make it offensive– no matter what color they are.

Various smells. Cinnamon and cloves can be purchased at any time of the year, so why do people seem to only know about them every December?

Family disagreements. Family and friends are the ONLY thing I value about the “holidays”, and it really bugs the shit out of me when adults can’t look past their sometimes enormous differences, and sit down together on a nice warm piece of common ground and be thankful that they have one another.

Celebrating His, The Savior’s birthday. That’s is factually incorrect. If you actually believe that Jesus was a prophet, then maybe you should celebrate his birthday in March when it happened, OR you should just go back to worshiping the sun, and the planets, and the weather like the people before who were exterminated, whose sacred edifices were demolished, and whose literature was destroyed by Christians.  Those who were left alive and needed to be converted had four decent Christian holidays which conveniently coincided with the ones they would have rather celebrated in the first place.

Christmas trees. That one is also pagan, guys.  Christians are just dumb enough to follow after Martin Luther who was dumb enough to cut down a tree that had a magical glow that he thought would just look so cute inside his house, the rest… well…

Christmas music. This needs to be stopped. Why can’t some privileged celebrity make it his/her cause to stop recording and proliferating Christmas music. I would wear the fuck out of some cause bracelets for that shit. People would be like, “What’s your cause bracelet for?”, and I’d be like “I’m raising awareness for the quit-fucking-recording-songs-about-snow-and-santa-and-bells-and-sleighrides campaign.” If you’ve ever worked in a place that plays Christmas music, you’ve probably noticed that there’s only about ten to fifteen Christmas songs, and about ten to fifteen different artists’ versions of each of those songs. That’s not to say that there aren’t some holiday one-offs out there. Take THIS little gem, for example. For years I thought that song was by The Dixie Chicks, but it’s The Wilson Sisters– neither one would have been better than the other. If you’ve made it this far into this entry I want you to do me a favor; watch that entire video. Please. Now I want you to understand that I’ve heard that song two to four times per shift worked for eight years of holidays. That puts the number of times I’ve listened to that song somewhere between 360 and 630– and every single one of those times that I heard it I fucking hated it. A few years ago I had a very unique thing happen to me; I was working at Whole Foods, and I was asked to cover an extra shift on a day in December. I heard that Wilson Sisters song at least three times, but I think I heard it a fourth time, and when that fucking saxaphone solo slid in for the last time that day I lost it. I felt my spirit break, and I felt my will being crushed. I wanted to sit on the floor and cry, but instead I just stuck my arm into the shelf of tea I had very neatly stocked, and emptied that shelf onto the ground, because it gave me something to focus on. Maybe you’re thinking that it can’t really be that bad, but I guarantee you it IS. The best analogy I have for it would be that you’re like a pig standing in shit all day, but you know you’re somehow aware that you’re a pig, and you just want to go some place clean.

The day after Christmas is like being released from a straightjacket, but still being in the asylum. You don’t have to hear Christmas music anymore for eleven months, but nurse Ratchet is gonna play a little tune for you, and it’s gonna be Duran Duran’s “Come Undone”, and even though you hated that song at least fifteen years ago when it was new and it was on MTV every other song, and it was on the audio system all day every time you went to Astroworld that summer, and some of your friends liked it, but you stopped hanging out with them because it bothered you so much that they liked it,  it’ll be your new favorite song.

Well, anyways. It’s a new year now and a new decade, so do with that as you will and just be thankful that it’s all over with for another year.

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One Response to “Done With It.”


  1. […] This post was mentioned on Twitter by LittleSpeaker, Justin Glave. Justin Glave said: Done With It.: http://wp.me/pt9ot-2S […]


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