Saturday, December 10, 2022

THE REAL MEANING OF CHRISTMAS

It would be a lie if I were to assert a fondness for SantaCon, the yearly festival of inebriation and puking celebrated by men and women dresses as Santa or elves. Or reindeer.
Or undressed as Santa, elves, and reindeer.

Never-the-less, I have an intellectual affection for it. I love the idea of empty headed yuppies and tech-bros getting so drunk that they need to have their stomachs pumped, and losing control at both ends.

It makes the season special.

I'd rather they not do it in my neighborhood, however.
Soggy vomit Santas in gutters do not appeal.
Even if some of them have .....
Covered in tinsel.

The streets are filled with disgusting drunks in stained red velvet.


On the other hand, that berserk story of a virgin giving birth and three men visiting with gifts while sheep and other farmyard animals sing could ONLY have been invented by drunkards.

It is highly suspect that there was no midwife, and no details of labour or parturition were passed on. Tells you that no women were part of the tale-spinning. And, remarkably, other than the teenage mother herself, no women were present at all. Which isn't likely.

In the words of my apartment mate, "they didn't have women at that time, they'd been eaten by the dinosaurs".


The whole thing smells of drunken frat-boy to me.

"They didn't have women at that time, they'd been eaten by the dinosaurs!"

No women at all, not even a village midwife or the local taxidriver, to assist in the birth. Nothing but farm animals and three hippies. As good a reason to get blotto as any.

Afterwards, a magic fat man flies overhead with Gameboys and socks!

Par-tay!



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1 comment:

Anonymous said...

The mass hordes of millennial drunks in red costumes may very well pave the way for the belief that Santa is real…but G-d is not.

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