There’s no escape. Resistance is futile.
Yet what about those who don’t celebrate Christmas?
Or don’t have anyone with whom to celebrate?
Or those for whom it holds bad memories?
Or those who have other beliefs?
Or what if you love the holidays, but don’t like the commercialism and drama of it?
They still have to fight the crowds, listen to incessant carols, and have their world look like Christmas has been sick everywhere.
We’re still hearing about the War on Christmas when really, it looks more like Christmas has gone on a bender. Christmas is bigger than ever. Santa is still selling Coke. Jesus is still praised at midnight masses. Commercialism is still going strong.
Stores use terms like Season’s Greetings and Happy Holidays to allegedly be inclusive, really it’s to extend the shopping period. The sustained commercialism has made for sustained greetings. Offices use these terms because Christmas cheer reduces productivity. Also, Christmas isn’t the only religious or non-religious celebration this time of year, how about: Yule, Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, Chalica, Bodhi Day, Sadeh, Pancha Ganapati, Hogmanay, Yalda and yes, even Feast of Winter Veil and Festivus. Including others, I can’t think of anyone, especially in the Bible who would be for that…oh wait.
I don’t understand how saying Happy Holidays offends. That’s like saying I can’t eat cookies because you’re on a diet. If someone saying Season’s Greetings will shatter a belief in Christ, there’s a problem. Poor Christmas, maybe it needs to stop worrying about what others think of it.
If only we spent more time worrying about peace, kindness, love, hope, and everyone having enough.
Evil wins when it destroys our belief in good. Santa knew that better than anyone, he specialized in good, he had a list for it. He also had a list for naughty and he was going to have to add to that list.
Santa grimly looked out the window, his white gloves absently touching the papers on his desk. He knew this report would forever change the way people viewed The North Pole and possibly Christmas.
The CIA (Christmas Intensity Agency) could be a little overzealous in their protection and advancement of Christmas, but he hadn’t known or let himself think about the lengths they might have gone to in the War on Christmas.
In their zeal to make people believe in Christmas the CIA had done unspeakable things. People had been forced to: untangle tree lights for hours on end; eat fruitcake, gumdrops, candy, candy corn, candy canes, cookies; watch hours of Christmas movies, even the made-for-TV ones; had been sleep-deprived so no visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; were syrupboarded; made to wear holiday cheer; stand on broken candy canes; endless Christmas songs, and even had their families threatened. Not to mention blowing a large portion of the Christmas budget and for what? The conclusion was clear, the Enhanced Christmas Infusion Techniques were not only sadistic and inhumane, but ineffective.
Santa couldn’t understand what had caused the CIA to do such horrible things. He opened the book entitled, The Naughty List, picked up his pen and dipped it into the inkwell, shaking his head again in anger and disbelief, they’d never even asked if those people believed in Christmas.
Evil only wins if it destroys our belief in good.
“This is Anna Bjorgman, reporting from The North Pole where it appears protesters from The Occupy Movement have set up camp to Occupy The North Pole.” Shivering in her Canada Goose parka, the young woman bravely placed the microphone in front of one of the Occupiers, “Excuse me, why has The Occupy Movement decided to Occupy The North Pole this Christmas?”
A handsome young man flashed a smile that was whiter than the snow around him before answering, “Actually, the Occupy movement is so three years ago. We’re the Change The North Pole Movement, because we believe the climate up here needs to change!”
Pushing his iPhone6 into the pocket of his Moncler parka, Christian continued, “Santa is a fat rich old white man who has his own town, slave labour, and only works one day a year!”
Christian paused to point to the various tents, barricades, signs, and a handful of protesters milling around the streets of The North Pole. “Santa’s the ultimate symbol of capitalism! He teaches children to be materialistic!”
A beautiful young woman holding two large Starbucks cups, smiled coyly as she handed Christian one of the steaming cup, “I got your fav, Christian, Double Tall Soy Latte,” Bianca crooned before turning a dazzling smile on the reporter. “We want human need, not corporate greed!”
The reporter, slightly stunned by all the dazzling smiles, wondered where they’d managed to find a Starbucks at The North Pole and was momentarily at a loss for words. Recovering swiftly, she nodded at her cameraman Hans to follow her as she walked with the protesters toward Santa’s Workshop. “What is it you hope to accomplish by Occupying, er, Changing The North Pole?”
Christian took a sip of his latte, looking thoughtful before answering. “The income inequality and wealth distribution between the wealthiest 1% and the rest of the population is no more obvious than here at The North Pole. The elves are the 99%. We want to bring awareness that while Santa sits around smoking a pipe, getting fatter, and being jolly, there is social and economic inequality here and worldwide.”
Bianca stepped brashly forward. “We want people to think, to ask questions, not just blindly follow the Santa Laws!” She then gaily waved at another protester and quickly texted what looked like gibberish before continuing, “There is no better slave than a slave who doesn’t know he’s a slave. I think Bono or Ariana Grande said that and they were so right. People need to wake up! People need see what’s in front of them!”
A frigid wind raged as the reporter watched the two young people start texting, knowing she’d lost the little attention they possessed. With strains of happy Christmas songs emanating from Santa’s Workshop and chants of We Are Changing the Climate of the North Pole! behind her, the reporter smiled weakly at the camera and threw it back to the station with a simple yet bemused, “This is Anna Bjorgman, umm, do you wanna build a snowman?”
If I worried about doing or saying something stupid I’d never open my mouth, write anything or probably leave the house, but as I get older I hope I’m slightly less stupid.
For me, the Christmas season seems to come with the gift of introspection. Maybe it’s because the season brings out the best and worst in people.
This year the news is filled with bizarre, almost surreal images that still seem vaguely familiar.
Terrorism. Shopping frenzies. Economic manipulations by the rich. Protests against the police for what can only be categorized as cataclysmically abysmal conduct. Since the police aren’t getting in trouble, their behaviour must be explicit or implicit policy, which makes it more disturbing.
Wrapped in a cloak of civility we shiver against the winds of change. As we become more and more comfortable, any discomfort sets off a fear response in us. We’ve been the white meat for a long time now, worth more, and as much as we say we’re not prejudiced, we are. And we’re fearful, why else would we vote in politicians that are self-serving fear mongers who only want to further their agendas?
People hide their fear, but it’s there. As society becomes more inclusive, more politically correct, the fear festers. It’s Christmastime and there is a need to be afraid, about what’s really fearful.
Fearful that corporations run our governments, who don’t serve in the best interests of their citizens.
Fearful we’re more worried about apps, vacations, eating out, fashion, and entertainment than about the environment.
Fearful that a lack of respect for each other has lead to arguing, bickering, even, as we’ve seen, death.
Fearful households are sagging under the weight of their debts, countries are struggling to stay afloat.
Fearful poverty, hunger, inequality, injustice, and war are still accepted.
Fearful in a world of constant connection, we seem further apart than ever.
Police are hired to protect and serve.
Governments are elected to govern.
Kindness and compassion are a language understood by all, we need to remember how to speak it.
We all want to change the world, but not enough people want to change. Waiting in line for a new iPhone, or Christmas wrapping services, or Drake’s new store, concert, movie, restaurant, etc. we have the power in our wallets – stop waiting and stand up for something that will be a positive change.
Sometimes there’s too much going on to see what’s really going on.
As we grow older, wouldn’t it be better if we got slightly less stupid?
This has all happened before and it will all happen again…history doesn’t have to be a broken record.
Unseasonably warm, it seemed a beautiful day to go for a long walk. Little did I know chaos had broken out at The North Pole. As I wandered off to do errands and go to the library, behind the scenes, disgruntled elves had declared war on Christmas! Tired of deplorable working conditions, the Elves went on strike.
Santa seemed bemused, telling the media, “I’ve spent more money on elves, especially Veteran elves than any other Santa in the history of Santas.”
The elves shot back with a list of demands.
“We’re tired of being pushed around!” Chief SpokesElf Snowball exclaimed. “We don’t have glamorous jobs like fighting to save Middle-earth, making cookies in trees, being a warrior in Hyrule, or saving Harry Potter, we just make toys!”
Other elves murmured their agreement.
“We love making toys, but day in and day out, it’s torture!” Snowball climbed up on a festive stool to point at the growing crowd of elves. “No one talks about the harassment we endure when we go into town, we can’t even walk down the street without hearing, Hey Sugarplum, or Twinkletoes, Peppermint Buns, Angel Ears, Sprinklepants.” Snowball sat down heavily on the stool, head in hands, as if unable to carry on.
Another elf patted Snowball on the back and continued, “We want to work, but we have to sing the whole time and some elves, I won’t mention any names, cough cough, Buddy, sing loud for all to hear, off key. And why does Santa’s Workshop have to be at The North Pole, why not Aruba or Belize?” Holly sighed and raised her hands in a gesture of defeat. “We have a mandatory diet of cookies, candy canes, gingerbread, candy corn, do you know what all these gumdrops are doing to my diet?”
Cries of Here, Here! and One Two Three Four Eating Cookies is a Bore! rang through the workshop.
But while the elves were rallying, the reindeer escaped and went flying around the world, stuffing themselves on fast food and samples at Costco; getting liquored up before knocking down unsuspecting pedestrians. This is where I come in, one minute I was walking, the next I was on the ground, in the mud. The reindeer didn’t even stop, it kept talking on it’s cellphone, at least, I think it was a reindeer.
With only 19 sleeps before the Big Night, let’s hope Santa and the Elves can work this out.
In the first hour of CyberMonday my true love bought for me a Star Wars Christmas Tree (The Christmas Force Awakens?).
In the second hour of CyberMonday my true love bought for me 2 Christmas sweaters (or jumpers, either way, not sure I’m that cold just yet).
In the third hour of CyberMonday my true love bought for me 3 motion-activated candy dispensers (it says motion, that burns calories, right?).
In the fourth hour of CyberMonday my true love bought for me 4 boxes of chocolates (aaaand, they’re gone!).