Obligatory Christmas Comment

Yep, it’s that time of the year. Like a Credit Vampire, Christmas rolls around with the sole intent of sucking every last resource from your pocket.

I think every man, woman and dog has as some point or other objected to the commercialisation of Christmas, but I don’t look upon the season with that much derision, aside from the aforementioned seasonal Nosferatu. The reason I don’t criticise the Christmas season is because of my absolute terror.

Christmas often develops attributes that are not normally exercised during the course of the year. The gift that Christmas gives is that it grants everyone superhuman powers.

Where else must you use the great powers of Extra Sensory Perception to determine what exactly everyone wants for Christmas? Not birthdays, as you only have to buy for the one person. There always seems to be the case in where you have to buy a present for one person or couple that has absolutely everything, and couldn’t possibly want more. Who would’ve guessed that socks were “just the thing” they were looking for? Where else do you manage to find the perfect present for upwards of ten people, and still manage to cram it all on a budget limit that matches the GDP of a small country. Yes, Christmas brings forth powers beyond that of mere mortals.

Where else would you exercise the steely determination to tolerate the thousands of people who crush into department stores, trying to find that elusive wallet or fragrance? People freak out at rock concerts, and others get symptoms of claustrophobia in toilet cubicles. These situations pale when compared to the masse of mad mothers with Tourette’s Syndrome that is typical of this season. During any time of the year, you would snot these people on the nose, but during Christmas it is different. To every kick to the shin, to every item plucked out of your hand by a desperate father, to every toe that is run over by a two tonne shopping trolley, you just exchange a knowing smile with your assailant and continue with your task.

Where else would you exercise the tolerance at receiving yet another fucking tie? “Why thank you, “ You say with a Cheshire cat grin, “I needed one of those!” Amazing that you can pull this face off, even when the voices in the back of your brain are instructing you to use said present as a garrotte.

Where else do you exercise the Oscar worthy acting ability to maintain an air of excitement about the season, just to satisfy little children who are infused with yuletide atmosphere hyperactivity? These are children who can perceive any façade, know if you’re not entirely enthused, and subsequently get upset due to your lack of commitment. Hell hath no fury like a five year old that senses that you don’t believe in Santa Claus.

What other time of the year would convince you that taking your holidays to go spend it with one hundred thousand other like minded families with rotten kids would be a fantastic idea? Normally people go away on trips to have some quiet time alone, but during this period, somehow fail to realise that whole cities migrate to rural areas to ponce about in their hoity-toity four wheel drives, or SUV’s (whatever want to call them). What other time of the year convinces you that taking a holiday with enough people to sink the Titanic is relaxing, and worthwhile?

So, in summary…

I don’t fuck with Christmas. It has eerie powers.