“If I could work my will,” said Scrooge indignantly, “every idiot who goes about with ‘Merry Christmas” on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should!”
I’m not that harsh. Still, every year Christmastime rolls around and I set out with the intention of really capturing the Christmas spirit and trying to feel the love towards my fellow man demanded by the season. And invariably, every year, after a day or so of the mad dash for presents, dealing with ignorant rednecks, bad drivers and listening to those goddamned Salvation Army bells whatever Christmas spirit I had managed to muster is gone up the spout and I can’t wait for the whole damned affair to end.
Nice attitude isn’t it?
I honestly could give a shite about Christmas. I do enjoy giving gifts. Since I’ve had a bit of scratch to my name I very much enjoy being generous. I do not, however, enjoy the process of thinking of and purchasing said gifts. That’s a pain in the arse.
Christmas goes from a festival of greed during childhood to a mad scramble to outwit your fellow consumers during adulthood. Never is it really that fun: as a child you can’t wait for the day to approach so you can revel in your good fortune, as an adult you can’t wait for the day to approach so you can get back to normal.
Bollocks to the whole thing. Bah. Humbug! The best Christmas I can remember was the one I spent alone. I went to every Mass: Christmas Eve and day and spent the interim time drinking and eating by myself in my cozy little house. A time of contemplation and relaxation. No worries, no need to deal with the rest of humanity, no concerns at all.
Despite my bad attitude I do wish everyone out there a Happy Christmas, even if I can’t say it out loud. To all of the poor damned souls who don’t see what’s so big a deal about the birth of a child in Bethlehem two odd aeons ago – up yours! Happy Christmas all the same and you can choke on the sentiments.
And now, only three hours to go until the holiday begins and I can enjoy my own blend of Christmas spirits – in liver quivering quantities.