Monday, December 12, 2005

The War on Christmas: Operation Lesson Learned

A few years ago, Worker #3116 offered an olive branch to Deadbeat Père in the form of a Christmas dinner. Deadbeat Père had long foresaken his conversion to Judaism for a more personal spirituality that I like to call alcoholism. Alcoholism and Christmas. Anyway, at first it seemed that perhaps Worker #3116 and Deadbeat Père would find some kind of peaceful ground in the form of a lobster and some wine, but on the Wednesday before Christmas Deadbeat Père called to say that Christmas was cancelled on account of how tired he would be after work. At the time Worker #3116 was appalled by this cowardly shirking of the patriarchal duty of Family Tradition Standard Bearer. But that was a pre-War on Christmas Worker #3116. Like a Motorcycle Diaries Che Guevara, Worker #3116 had to undertake an arduous road trip across South America in a sidecar to realize his true calling in the fight against Christmas. And now, like Deadbeat Père like Deadbeat Fils! And so I say "If Christmas itself stood in my way, I, like Nietzsche, would not hesitate to squish it like a worm."

My friends, it falls upon you to call in tired to Christmas!

The following year would be the Christmas where Deadbeat Père made insulting comments about Worker #3116's family and friends and Worker #3116 told Deadbeat Père to go fuck himself, also known as Fuck You Christmas 2003. FUC was almost immediately followed by My-Father-Left-Me-a-Drunk-Voicemail-at-Three-in-the-Morning-to-Tell-Me-He-Had-Lost-All-Respect-for-Me-Because-He's-a-Pussy-New-Year's-Day-2004. I share these facts with you not to earn your pity or your understanding, but to show you that I am your rightful leader. I have stared Christmas in the eye and I have said "Not today, Christmas!"

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