PRE-EMPTIVE BAH HUMBUG!

I dislike Christmas. I dislike the shopping season. I dislike the nudniks who dive headfirst into the shopping season as the be-all and end-all of their pathetic consumerite existences. But most of all, I dislike Christmas music.


There is something infernal about the same twenty songs played over and over again, in different versions as sung by different smarm-meisters, many of them small and shrill and cute, that eventually rots brains. You did not WANT to memorize these songs. After all, the words are uniformly sappy and vapid - but here you are, humming them to yourself or even whistling the tunes.


ALIENS!

It's all a dastardly plot. The multi-clawed crab creatures from planet nine are just waiting for your brain to turn to lime-jello under the influence of repetitious bad music, whereupon they will land and herd all of you into cattle pens. They need protein, you are meat. And, after the stress-damage to your cerebellum from saccharine lyrics, you are now very dumb meat. There is no sentience left, I can see the scrambled brain matter trickling out of your long-suffering ears. It has been replaced with sugar plums, and you, yes you, are now particularly sweet.

[The brain-fill sugar plums came from WalMart. They were made in China. By slaves in prison-camps. They contain dangerous chemicals. But they were SOOOOO cheap that you bought a ten-pound box for everybody in the trailer park. Which they will, as if addicted, scarf down entirely between xmas eve and new-year.s Then they will die. You will have killed them with that toxic sugar goo. As well as yourself, because you ate TWO boxes. At least. Doesn't it feel goooooooooood?1/]


Jingle Bells, sung in Chinese by teeny urchins, is particularly nasty.
I wished to purchase something in C'town over the weekend - something entirely unconnected with the Trinitarian Feast of Greed© - and fled before I accomplished my mission.
I wish to protest this horrid tradition. I keenly desire to see all cd's of holiday music banned, burned, bombed, and just generally splintered. Smashed by angry bears. Then set fire to.


I am fervently praying for power blackouts and magnetic disturbances. May the celebrants this season all get the bollocky pox.