I don’t like Christmas.

Deck their pockets with lots of money,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Being broke just ain’t that funny,
Blah la la la la, la la la bah.

But I used to love this season. Even after I stopped believing in Santa and Christianity. I guess somewhere along the way, the magic just ~poof~ disappeared as fast as it came. Maybe it was when the pressure was put on to spend spend spend, to feel feel feel.

Troll the stores with all the masses,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Fill their overflowing glasses
Blah la la la la, la la la bah.

In this supposed joyous season, everyone seems to be in a race for the best price, the biggest splurge, an urgency to land the golden fucking egg. When did it become such a symbol of materialistic posturing? Why don’t we tell the retailers to shove their Black Friday’s, Cyber Monday’s, today-only sales up their greedy asses? Maybe bake something for somebody instead. Paint a picture. Do something! Why can’t it be more Thanksgiving-like than a spend-what-we-don’t-got fest? I’m sick. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of the pressure from it.

See the sales set out before us,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Cash or credit? Come join the chorus!
Blah la la la la, la la la bah.

This season, like all the ones before it, I am playing along to the holiday shuffle song. But my heart’s just not in it. Each year I get more depressed. Each year I feel more stressed. Each year I feel obligated to sing along. Each year I find I “should” on myself for all the things I should be doing, should be buying, should be feeling.

Follow me in “fuck this season!”
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
But don’t get caught, they’ll call it treason,
Blah la la la la, la la la bah.

One of these seasons I am gonna boycott the whole fucking event. Huddle up in the corner with my spiked eggnog and flip the bird to baby J in His holy manger and to fatman Santa in his sleigh. And to think, I really used to dig the sentiment of this season! But these days it has become a big-business, money-making, retailer-driven, theological mad mess. It’s sad, I must confess, sad ‘cos it’s true.

Sing this madness, all together,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Disenfranchised birds of feather,
Blah la la la la, la la la bah.

Merry fucking Christmas!

Blah la la la la,
Blah bah blah baaahhh!