I get it. Christmas is exciting! There are presents to spend money on, chestnuts to roast, and even a jolly diabetic man. What more could you want in a holiday? If your idea of a good time is to shiver around a fire with a bunch of eskimos, eating charred nuts while some Jack Frost character tries to take your nose, then Christmas is for you. If your ideal alcoholic beverage is one whose predominant ingredients are harvested from the bottom ends of two separate farm animals, and you like getting embarrassingly drunk off of the unborn children of Chicken Little, then don that Santa hat! And the music is great, too – that’s probably why everyone plays it for as many months as your mom played that Taylor Swift album. I just kind of wish that the songs had a little variation as the months went on — y’know, so that boy actually gets to give those damn shoes to his mother. On that topic, who doesn’t love a song that makes you feel awful about damning everyone you love to Hell when you stub your toe or drop your sandwich on the ground?
I get it. Really, I do. Some of my best friends celebrate Christmas.
But, just in case none of these things are particularly up your alley – if you, by chance, don’t particularly like seeing department stores that look like the Spirit of Christmas had a kegger with the 9 reindeer there the night before – then I have another holiday for you to focus on this year.
I’m called Halloween. Have you heard of me?
Of course you have. But you were probably all: “oh, I don’t know if I’m going to really make a big thing of it this year.” The very second I’m done, my costume shops are filled with Santa outfits. Well, guess what? I’m probably the most accessible holiday there is, and I don’t see Justin Bieber running out and making a Halloween album. I mean, I’m the people’s holiday. I’m your holiday – whoever you are. That’s not to say that Christmas isn’t for everyone, too. Y’know, unless you’re a Jew, a Muslim, non-Anglo Saxon, have a terrible family, are allergic to contagious joy, or are diabetic. Me, though? I won’t judge you. Wanna slut it up in a Xena costume? Live it up, girl. Wanna act like somebody else for a day to escape the terrible truth of what you’ve become? That’s what I’m for. Wanna dress up your 8-year old’s doll and pretend it’s your second child so you can get more candy? I respect the ingenuity. Go ahead, have a war on me. Really, I’m fine with it. I’m all about releasing your inner darkness.
For Christmas, you worship some obese child factory foreman who gets his jollies by sliding into your chimney and eating your cookies. Not that that doesn’t sound great and all, but there’s got to be a better alternative. For me – for Halloween – you’re the hero. You don’t have to tell tales about some other magnificent costumed man, because you are him. Or her. Or…gender nonspecific. I don’t care.
And seriously, what is Christmas teaching our children? Santa sets up obesity and cookie-robbery as ideals. We’re lying to our children, and guaranteeing that at some point their hearts will be broken. You won’t find that in Halloween. No, siree. We just give them candy. We don’t have some mascot who – I don’t know – dresses up in a suit made of squashes and tosses candy-filled bats and caramelized Halloween spirit into people’s windows. I mean, unless you want to do that. In that case, go ahead. That’s the beauty of Halloween.
…That’d be pretty weird, though.
All I’m saying is maybe not spend an entire ¼ of the year obsessing over Christmas. I’ve established it’s at least a pretty mediocre holiday – some might even say good. But you’ve got to admit that it leads to some pretty tragic stories: you know that story about the the couple who sold their watch and hair to buy each other christmas gifts? Well, a similar thing happened to my friend: he bought his aunt a toy for her son, and she sold her son to buy him a new car. True story.
Just…give me a chance. I have candy.