Christmas is a Big Shiny Turd!

Is there a priest who can perform an exorcism to remove the Christmas spirit from my television? All these audio/visual commercial assaults on my delicate senses about shopping, and spending and Christmas time Capitalism are starting to seriously irritate me. They are quickly eroding my traditional good cheer and holiday spirit. I usually like Gift-giving day. So what gives? Well, for one thing, apparently, if I don't buy my wife a diamond pendant or a Lexus sedan or some other high-end luxury item for Christmas I'm a big loser. At least that's what the television has been not so shyly telling me for the past three weeks. I long for a country house away from everything but a nice clean lake with nothing to do but sit by the fire drink spirits, read good books and play with my dogs. Somewhere far away from the traffic grime and Thermo-nuclear blitzkrieg of "BUY THIS or you will never be happy/you don't own one of these, you loser?!" adverts.

Where did things go astray? Television and I used to be such good friends, I just don't know what happened. There was a time not so long ago when the two of us would spend long hours gazing lovingly into one another's flickering eyes. It was special, it was intimate. It was just me and the TV. It was our time. I was in my own private little bubble of bliss, away from the realities of reality. Sweet, sweet, Television, the only-child-who-doesn't-yet-have-a-dog's best friend.

Did I ever share the fact that my Father was in a commune back when we lived in San Francisco and he attempted to kidnap me when I was was 2 years old? True. It's on days like this that I kind of wish he'd succeeded. Perhaps I'd be skipping barefoot across a meadow or mending a barrel or killed by lack of proper medical care.

Chin up. Don't fret for me. Fear not by fellow Greedy capitalist Pig-dogs. I'm quite sure that this feeling will soon pass and I will once again become a good little consumer by the time Christ's Birthday rolls around. Nobody can resist the power and lure of shiny things, gadgets, expensive clothes and the joyous temporary bandage they provide for one's self-esteem. The only other option is to be a genuine person of character and integrity and that just sounds like a lot of hard work and effort.

I'd like to be able to slap a siren onto the roof of my car, and become authorized to find one of these people driving their uber-expensive, overpriced, "my-cock-is-as-huge-as my bank account style SUV" with their personalized narcisistic L.A.rific license plates. I'd pull their shallow morally bankrupt ass out of the vehicle and cuff their arms to their legs. I would then promptly and professionally inform them that their values are all fucked up and so "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you down to the station and administer a thick and robust beating to your face and torso." A police baton would feel very nice in my hands today. So that's what you can stuff up my stocking. A nice police baton. Or maybe some shiny throwing stars like I always wanted when I was a kid. See that! Look I do want something! Hooray! The magic of Christmas Greed has already begun to reposses my mind and body. Next I'll be strolling the streets singing Christmas carols, slinging rock and sucking dick just to buy that nifty item on my wish list that I simply can not live without. Christmas is just Heroin disguised as a Fat bearded man in a Red Suit. Sure you could try and kick the habit it, but does that really feel like the right choice? Wouldn't you rather have something high-tech or sparkly? And Merry Christmas to you, too, Tiny Tim! I just know in my heart that Santa will bring you a brand new leg this year.