What your view of sports and life would be if you had too many concussions
So, this is the week of Christmas. Fuck me. The only upside is the day is coming soon in which I will wake up in an America where the massive phoniness known as “the Christmas season” will finally be over. Part of me thinks Christmas might not be all bad if it could be kept at reasonable levels. But expecting that in “deluxe/super-sized/all-you-can-eat America” is like believing you can climb a cloud. Every year for the past half-century, I’ve been enduring this non-sense only to watch it get worse every fucking year. That’s why I’m putting you all on notice…here’s six more things which are horribly wrong with Christmas, and you now have a full year to get them fixed.
1) “Secret Santa”
For 11 months and 3 weeks a year, you have nothing but contempt for the booger-eating morons around you at you job. Then you celebrate Christmas week by sharing discount-store gifts with them. Basically you play a lottery game as to which mucus muncher for whom you will be “Secret Santa.” Then you head to the dollar store for an exercise in which tasteless, cheap Chinese-made shit best fits the chair-moistener you got.
For a whole week, you leave your secret gifts on their desk; the week being capped with some sort of gathering in which a slightly less-cheap gift is exchanged and everybody’s “Secret Santa” is revealed. Like most people, I fell for this non-sense once which is how I know the horrors it contains. I knew I was fucked the minute I found myself in a dollar store looking for cheap gifts with a “bridal” theme for a girl who was dreaming of her wedding even though she didn’t even have a boyfriend. That’s because she had a sloping forehead and was so snaggle-toothed you could have used her mouth to make keys. In other words, I was more fucked than this girl was ever going to be; she couldn’t get dick in a Turkish prison even if she used that orthodontic tragedy to cut keys for every lock in the place.
That’s when I decided to kill two birds with one stone; the obvious solution was to buy gifts which ensured I would not be asked to participated in this bullshit again. I gave “Key-Teeth” five lottery tickets with a “post-it” note on them saying “These are better odds than you finding a husband.”
Before you try to tell me how terrible that was, at least I’m honest. There are so many hints hidden in such gifts. For example, when somebody gives you a bunch of scented lotion, soap, and or hand sanitizer, just know your fellow cube-dwellers have discussed how much you smell like infected monkey ass.
2) Work Christmas Celebrations
This one almost goes hand-in-hand with #1 because far too many times, this will cap off “Santa Santa” week, and far too many more times this involves one of those “pot-luck/carry-in” dinners. Like #1, I fell for this shit once as well, and it was the only thing that made feel dumber for having taken the bait than #1. First of all, what sort of food can you make which appeals to gastropods who need scientific notation to document their cholesterol numbers and got there 75 vending-machine cents at a time? Once you discover that Pinterest is shockingly bereft of “roadkill in a crock-pot” recipes, the question becomes what the fuck would you actually eat that was prepared by these people? Heed my warning people and just skip this one, lest your lesson be learned the hard way like I did…having a carry-in dinner leave your body with such expulsive force that you leave Chicklet-sized chunks of your asshole in every gas-station shitter along your drive home.
3) Mailing Christmas Gifts
Ahh, the joys of the post office in December. It’s the one place you can experience the one rung on the socio-economic ladder with more unfortunate body hair and horribly indescribable odors than your aforementioned co-workers. One used to have to hang out at those sleazy check-cashing places on government-check day to experience the crowd which the advent of direct deposit forced to the post office where they buy the money orders they need to pay for their county ankle bracelets. In other words, half the fucking people in the place aren’t even there to mail anything, and the ones that are are usually not even prepared to ship anything. You’ve seen these dipshits; the ones who show up at the post office and they don’t even have their crap in a box.
Now before you even say it, the options aren’t any better. You may avoid the ankle-bracelet crowd by going to FedUPS, but you double the number of dumb-fucks who haven’t the foggiest notion of the fundamentals of cardboard and packing tape. The bottom line is no matter how you do it, shipping Christmas gifts should have been one of Dante’s concentric rings of Hell. The best part is the only reason you’re there is so you can send some crap to your wife’s cousin’s latest illegitimate welfare-sponge…and you won’t even get a thank you for it.
4) Christmas Car Commercials
Every once in a while, I see something so awful it makes me understand points of view from people with whom I completely disagree. This GMC commercial is a prime example. Whenever I hear liberal asswipes crying about “white privilege” 999 time out of 1,000 all I can think of a bunch of art history majors who are pissed off they made bad decisions and chose a path which dooms them to a life of handing out mocha crapuccinos at some shit coffee house for majority of their productive years. But this commercial is the 1000th.
Start with the premise here about this commercial featuring suburban, upper-middle class white people. They have just enough money to be obnoxious, but not enough to really matter in the grander scheme. Face it, the uber-rich don’t drive pick-up trucks; these dickweeds have just enough disposable income for a set of $60,000 vehicles for which they have no practical use. But the real problem here lies in the disparity of the gift exchange.
Watch that commercial carefully, and do a little “reading between the lines.” Notice she gave him some trinkety crap, while he ponied up for the new cars. There’s no better indicator of a major problem in the relationship than a huge gift disparity. Not only that, but watch the way she claims the big truck he clearly intended for himself. She did that intentionally. She’s getting even on what is clearly a “guilt” gift; he doesn’t know that she knows about his late-night games of “slap and tickle” with the new intern at his law firm. But he also doesn’t know that making him drive the grocery-getter with the lighted vanity mirrors is only her first step in his emasculation. That baggy sweater is hiding a nine-month surprise from Dexter, the personal trainer at the health club…and his cop-flashlight-sized Mandingo cock.
You’re not getting a 100,000-mile, bumper-to-bumper warranty on that, buddy.
While I would never condone child abuse, this is the time of year when I understand people wanting to beat the absolute living shit out of some obnoxious little punk. I don’t know how we don’t have at least one mall Santa get arrested for snapping the neck of some petulant little fucktard. When you stop to consider how many kids now who come from “participation trophy” parents kids and/or are Dexter J. Illegitimate-Bastards borne from adulterous GMC-driving mothers, what chance does Santa really have?
6) The “Spirit of the Season” AGAIN
I’ve ask for somebody to explain the whole concept of “Christmas Spirit” to me, and having been failed that, let me see if I get this straight. As Americans, we treat each other like radioactive dogshit for eleven months, then just because the calendar says “December,” all of a sudden it’s “peace on earth, goodwill toward man.” What phony bullshit, especially in this country today where we will stop speaking to each other over piddly crap like differences of opinion. America is more divided to day than ti has been since the days of the Civil War, and people actually think some ugly sweaters and some shitty eggnog is going to fix that. We need to get back to the point where we actually take time to talk to the people around us, so we can stop speaking to them because we know what genuinely shitty human beings they are.
Merry Christmas, assholes…
You can see the original things I hate about Christmas here.
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