“It’s the most wonderful time of the year.” So says a popular song heard -- when else? -- this time of year. But is this annual ranking of seasonal delight too Christmas-centric? And, true or not, how does saying so make other times of the year feel? Today, some of them speak openly about Yuletide prejudice:
Whenever I hear this “most wonderful time” stuff, I start to feel, I don’t know…unappreciated. Doesn’t anyone care about love? Not the peace-on-earth, good-will-toward-man type, but stab-you-in-the-heart, burning-in-your-loins passion. Compare the number of songs about eros to the number about Christmas cheer -- it’s no contest. And would you rather hear “Let’s Get It On” or “Frosty the Snowman”? I’m already blamed for making singles feel lonely and driving up the price of flowers for a day, so hearing how terrific Christmas is just kind of shoots another arrow into my heart. But I don’t care what people say. I’ll just keep loving until the day I die, till the mountains crumble into the sea, always and forever. (Sigh!)
I could kill people for saying Christmas is the best. Obviously, as a holiday, I rock! I think everyone gets all wrapped up in this jingle-bell, holly-jolly crap because they don’t want to admit they’re in love with the dark side. I’m more fun! When else do you get to pretend to be an axe murderer, or Donald Trump? When can you dress up like a slutty witch, a slutty vampiress, or slutty Big Bird? Kids think I’m awesome ‘cause I supply them with practically unlimited candy for weeks. I don’t put any of that “enjoy responsibly” or “childhood obesity” bullshit on them. I say, go ahead and O.D.! The whole point is, do whatever you want for one day. You see, I’m all about the carnivalesque and subverting the social order, if you wanna get theoretical about it. Christmas is just a pagan holiday wrapped in Christian charity and capitalist greed. Hey, did you know that Santa rearranged is Satan?
ST. PATRICK’S DAY:
Green beer, corned beef and cabbage, leprechauns…of course Christmas is more feckin’ wonderful! I’m just an excuse to get bollixed in the miserable month of March.