Why It's OK To Hate Xmas

Guys, we need to talk. Like, seriously. There seems to be this sentiment out there that we all have to love Xmas. ” It’s the most wonderful time of the year,” the song goes. Every commercial shows happy families greedily tearing open present after present. Meanwhile, there are starving kids in some Third World country wearing Atlanta Falcons Super Bowl Champions t-shirts. Yay holidays!

We spend hours and hours shopping in stores and in the few remaining malls. We waste our precious online time not on FailArmy videos, but shopping for even more shit for people we barely know. The driving, the weather, the people. And this is fun?

Literally, the first image that comes up for "I hate Xmas.'

Look, it’s time we take a stand. It’s OK to hate Xmas. In fact, I am pretty sure it’s in the Bible somewhere. Right after that story about the guy who built the boat and carefully wrangled exactly one male and female of every possible animal. So let’s break this shit down.

All The Xmas TV Movies Suck. I don’t wanna hear another one of you skirts ragging on Saw or movies starring the Rock as “being all the same.” If you can’t see the many layers of the Jigsaw character, you are stone stupid. That is just a fact, and science backs me up here. Yet it’s ok to hunker down on the couch in sweats any my hoodie, eating cookie dough and watching Lifetime and Hallmark channels all weekend. All those movies have the same damn plot. Some broad comes to some small town and saves Xmas.  Every damn time. Look, if you’re gonna watch this tripe at least do this. 

I might even watch with you. Especially if the girl in the movie is hot. Which happens quite often; just sayin’, fellas.

"This is the hand I jack off to you with."
"OK, ga-ross."

Last year, I forced myself to sit down and actually watch one of these Lifetime Xmas movies.

There Are People Who Think Die Hard Is Not a Xmas Movie. These people are to be avoided. For some, it doesn’t feel like the holiday season starts till they see Santa at the Macy’s parade. For people like me, the holidays don’t start till Hans Gruber is plummeting from Nakatomi Plaza. (SPOLIER ALERT! Oh, wait, I should have said that sooner? Screw that, the movie is like 40 years old.)

"But I still have Bed Bath & Beyond coupons! They're 20 per centtttttttt"

Your Family Always Has That One Weird Aunt or Uncle. What’s that you say? Your family doesn’t have one? Hate to break the news to you…

It's like looking in a mirror.

The Songs All Blow. How many freaking times do you need to hear GD Jingle Bells? Enough already! Just who the hell is "decking their halls?" And where do they get the boughs of holly? If Grandma wants to live by herself in the woods, she can stay there. Where’s all the GD Halloween songs?

Ugly Sweater Parties vs Halloween Parties. You decide where you'd rather be.

BYOOIINNGGGGG!!!

The Ugly Sweater Thing Is Over and Done. It used to be fun when you had to scour thrift stores for legit ugly sweaters that, at one time, someone thought passed for formal wear. Now, you can find premade ugly sweaters from your favorite team, band, movie, etc. Much like redheads, these sweaters are soulless. I blame the slacker hipsters for ruining this one.

Yea, we get it. You didn't even try.

There Is No Return on Investment. Like, literally. I’m not smart with money at all, and even I figured this out. Hate to be cold here, but Xmas lasts exactly as long as there are unopened presents. Once all the presents are opened, kiss my ass, I’m playing with all my new toys and games. It’s what Santa wants.

Think of all the time you spend running to stores to find “the perfect gift.” Think of the hours you spend  shopping on the computer when you could be doing better things, like reading this here blog. Then there’s all the wrapping. And, hey, let’s throw in a few parties we don’t want to go to. And let’s house all these cookies and bullshit. And Xmas is literally over in a flash. Presents opened. It’s the 26^th and you’re back to work because you blew what little paid time off you had in the summer on “mental health days.” Ho ho ho, dipshit.

Yes, OK, I know, Xmas is more than that. It’s the traditions. It’s the food. It’s the family and friends. But here’s my dream Xmas morning. Sleep late. Have traditional Xmas waffles. Open presents. See family for as long as I can tolerate, while trying to figure out who our weird uncle is. Return home and bask in my presents. Watch A Christmas Story a few more times.

The Santa Thing is Getting Kind of Creepy. As someone who doesn’t have children (you’re all welcome.), isn’t this everything you breeders tell your kids not to do? Let me get this straight. You take your spawn to meet an old man-a stranger- in the mall? Then you tell little Johnny or Neaveh (and enough with that name, BTW.) to sit on the strange man’s lap? Wha wha WHA? And said old man-rumored to be an actual saint in some corners-promises to lay lavish gifts on the child if they’re “good?” He sees them when they’re sleeping, he knows when they’ve been naughty or nice? Then, jolly old Santa breaks into your house? Um, excuse me a minute as I get on top of my soapbox here:

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE????

That scenario is far scarier than anything on Halloween. Next thing you’ll tell me is there is some creepy fairy that pays them for discarded body parts.

The Hustle and Bustle Sucks. First off, at what other time of year do we use the term “bustle? ”Just what is bustle and why does it get into my hedgerow?  For 4 or 5 weeks, all these nudnicks get in my way; in the store, in the supermarket, in the liquor store, on the roads. Get out of my GD way. And where’s my jetpack? I was told we’d have jetpacks by now.

Enough With the Fake Niceness. Yes, we’re all supposed to be happy and full of the holiday spirit. But what is worse is the people who pretend to have it. They go way over the top to mask their massive unhappiness of being surrounded by assholes for a month. I feel ya there. (That’s what she said.)

Xmas Trees Support the Deforestation of the Planet. You monsters.

Merry Frickin' Xmas, jackals.

Xmas Is Just Rampant Consumerism. Sheeple! You’re only funding the multi-national corporations. Plus, I had the Kevolution Theory Bureau of Statistics tell me that 64% of Xmas gifts never get used properly. 64%! That’s like almost 65%! Yay! Let’s get more crap we don’t need!

You know what we should be doing instead? Giving to charity. Does Cousin Dupree really need a $20 novelty piece of shit you picked up last minute from the Kohls because you forgot he existed? No. Your money is far better spent-as well as karma earned-if you throw a couple of bucks to Music and Memory, who helps people like Henry.

Mistletoe. In this climate we’re living in, how is mistletoe even still a thing? What horny old man-and you KNOW it was a horny old man-came up with this? It was probably some pervy ol’ mistletoe farmer, if such an occupation ever existed. “I know, I’ll invent some custom where I hang mistletoe up. And any pretty ol' lady that wanders under it will have to get a peck on the cheek. And then I jam my tongue down her throat! Brilliant!” How are all these uppity social justice warriors not raging against stores that sell mistletoe, mistletoe balls or even the classy mistletoe belt buckle? Which I may or may not be wearing right now. Ladies? Ladies? Hello?

The Car Commercials. OK, quick impromptu poll. By a show of hands-preferably the one not holding your drink-have you ever gifted anyone with a car?

(No hands raised.)

Uh huh, uh huh. Ok, class, again by a show of hands, have you ever been given a car for Xmas?

(Still no hands raised.)

Ah hah! As I thought. The Kevolution Theory Bureau of Statistics show none of us have ever gotten a new car for Xmas. Can we please get rid of these offensively unrealistic car commercials? (In fact, this will be part of my presidential platform. #VoteForKev2020) In what Valhalla do these families exist where they buy cars for each other? And if you notice, the people still get regular presents in the house! WTF is this madness? Wouldn’t you be kinda pissed that your spouse somehow took out enough money under your nose, they could buy you a car and you never even realized the money was gone? I have a theory about these commercial couples; the one that bought the car has been having/wants to have an affair with the neighbor. The car is just a way to soothe their conscience. Try watching those commercials now, you cheating bastard.

No One Eats Candy Canes Anymore. I have another theory that there hasn’t been a new candy cane made in years. They just recycle the ones no one wanted this year for next. Kinda like the salad at your favorite restaurant.

Tastes like 2016.

Xmas Cards. Again, what a spectacular waste of resources. If you send me a Xmas card, you should just address it to Kevolution Theory Trashcan so the mailman knows where to put it. I don’t even open them. I don’t send them. I truly don’t care if you send me a card, we’re square either way. Just don’t expect a Xmas card from me. Or a birthday card. Or a Father’s Day card. Or a condolence card. I say the same things about holidays as I do when I bounce; Kev don’t card.

Speaking of cards, enough with the creepy cards of just your kids. Chances are I barely know you, so why the blue hell do I wanna see your kids? I want to see YOU. What you look like now. I want to see who you married. Yes, it’s shallow, but it’s human nature. Whenever you send a card with your kids, you are telling the world, “I am now repugnant, hopefully my kids won’t end up like me.” You have given up in life. May god have mercy on your children.

Reindeer Boob. Yea, you’d think I’d be all about the wimmen folk exposing their boobs. Plus, I’m a pretty big perv, too. (Yes, I really am wearing a mistle toe belt buckle now, and no one in this book store seems to be obliging.) But I don’t know how I feel about this one yet.

A lil' somethin' for the ladies.

So, did I miss anything?

Why Can't We Have a War Against Black Friday?

The war on drugs. The war on terror. The war on Xmas. It seems all we do these days is squabble (you’ve watched cable sports networks in the morning and afternoon, right?) and argue. We are so easily divided. Politics, racism, sexism, sports, soda brands, Twilight characters, Sammy vs. Dave, literature, news. And when we’re not arguing, we’re actually going to war. The war on drugs. The war on terror. The war on Xmas. We need to all get on the same page here, kids. And-surprise-we can do that by going to war. The time is now to align forces and finally wage war on one of the most evil events in our lifetime.

 Yes, citizens (of earth!), batten down whatever hatches are, it’s time we go to war against Black Friday.

(Alas, it seems I generally write this same thing every year, but every year, most of you nudniks ignore my advice. So, please pay attention so I can go back to my strong suit of sex, drinking and humor. BTW, “strong suit of sex” is just about any suit I wear, if ya know what I mean.)

Did you know there’s actually a holiday before Xmas? Over the last few years, it’s been a mere speed bump on the way to massive and unnecessary rampant consumerism. It’s like we’ve also lost the point of the holiday of Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is the day families get together, pretend to like each other and eat like feral pigs. Turns out what we should be celebrating on Tgiving is the day this great country was discovered. Even though there were other people living here. Some think we should no longer celebrate this holiday as it celebrates the day we swindled this country away from the Indians. That’s a blog for another day, there’s only so much angst I can muster up as I write this blog. Ultimately, we should feel no pity as the Indians got their revenge by turning us into problem gamblers. I am sure they already have a holiday commemorating that.

"I'll never win if the damn dealing keeping giving me Uno cards!"

We need to focus our efforts here. Let’s not get caught up in the semantics of “Merry Xmas” vs “Happy Holidays.” We have already moved beyond this being an actual ‘holy season.’ That line was crossed and battle lost years ago. This is no longer about the birth of our/yours/someone else’s lord. This is not the place for our individual religious thoughts. In fact, just about every religion approves this crusade. I checked, I swear.

Yes, this is the time of year every website runs a blog about the war on Xmas. Ho hum and bah humbug. But the bigger, more sinister enemy here is Black Friday. Let’s look at some facts. First of all, it’s about time to admit that BLACK FRIDAY IS NO LONGER A THING!11! Yes, sure, BF used to be a thing; back when Roebuck was still with Sears, Kmart sold smokes and I had dreams of being a professional writer. It just doesn’t exist anymore, despite what all the retailers would have you think. Black Friday is for people who never used Amazon. Or eBay. Or Honey. Or RetailMeNot. Or Groupon. Or a phone that is not hardwired to the wall.

Let’s take a brief trip back in time; before Louis CK, Kevin Spacey and George Takei were the bad guys. Take me back to Black Friday 2016. How much money did you save? Whatever you bought, is it still being used today? Did the $5 Blu Ray ever escape the shrink wrap? Hell. Do you even remember what you bought, let alone if it ever became of any use to anyone?

Look,” you people”

that just HAVE to go shopping on Tgiving night are inconsiderate, raging assholes. Now, I can see you getting all in a hissy fit –you really should turn off the camera in your PC-so let me explain. I’m not gonna present a problem without a solution. BTW, you assholes know you are the “problem” part in this equation, right?

First of all you are blowing off your family. And look, if I have to suffer, we ALL have to suffer. “But Kev, I spend Tgiving with my in-laws. My INLAWS!” Yes, I hear that a lot, and yes, I get your point. But that’s what the Jim Beam is for, and if you play your cards right, you won’t get invited back next year. Or ever. Plus, if you are one of my Southern readers, that one cousin is looking pretty hot.

Literally, the first image that shows up as "hot cousin"

Secondly, because you HAVE to rush out and save $2 on a dozen pair of socks, you are denying someone else of their Tgiving. Newsflash, you fucking ignoramus; those are real, living, feeling people working in the Targets, Best Buys, Walmarts and malls.

Now, stop rolling your eyes about the “level of talent” that works at Walmart. Talk shit all you want. In previous lives, before I got elected for another term-I spent some time with the employees in these stores. And these people are mothers, fathers, uncles, sisters, etc. And all for the corporate empire that you fucktards go fuel, these poor folks have to forgo their family dinner so they can deal with your ignorant ass. If a store opens at 6PM, do you think all the elves just stroll in at 5:55? No, dunderhead, they have to be there hours before, setting things up, moving things around and mentally preparing for The Onslaught of The Ignorant. And at 6PM, the mindless herd floods in. But it doesn’t have to be that way.

What shouldn’t be lost on you is that the people who make these decisions to open stores on Tgiving night, do you know where they are? Do you know what they do? They fucking sit at home with their fucking families. Probably figuring out a way to expense their Tgiving dinner and probably tapping their fingers like Mr. Burns all night.

The sheep, they come to me.

And Friday morning they sleep in while all their poor underlings work a ridiculous amount of hours for Black Weekend. Now, I will be the first to admit I have a heart as black as the night two miles inside a tunnel, but even ME thinks this is highly unfair. But, hey, you need to buy that piece of rapidly declining technology.

Here’s some more pipebombs; did you know just about any store you would choose to patronize on Black Thursday has this thing called a website? And did you know, more times than not, all those shiny BF deals can actually be had on said website? And usually you can get said, shiny deal anytime the week of BF? So you could actually dayload on Wednesday –or Tuesday, no judgement here-and do all your BF shopping online! Look at you being a decent human being! Go ahead and order yourself another Moscow Mule, son, you’ve earned it. Also, early reconnaissance says the Moscow Mule must be losing favor as the trendy drink by the abundance on Moscow Mule gift sets available everywhere.

And hey, if you’re now feeling all good about yourself, if you do have to go shop, how about sleeping in a bit, then supporting local, independent businesses? You have my permission. Also, I should note it is Record Store Day. You have my blessing to go support these fine, fine independent merchants. But if I hear you’re actually buying Xmas music, I will hunt you down and kick you in the balls. Don’t be a dipshit.

If you are not offended by all the Xmas commercials than have been airing since October 10^th, you just are not paying attention. Have you noticed what all these “holiday” commercials are saying? That your Xmas isn’t shit until you open up that last present (the subliminal message being all your other presents are shit) from Best Buy. Or that you haven’t had a good holiday till someone buys you a car. Wha wha what!?!

A car! Fuck you, evil multinational company. If I can spend most of the day sleeping, drinking egg nog and watching A Christmas Story over and over, it’s been a pretty good Yule at the Theory house. (Speaking of ACS, Fox can go fuck itself if they think I’m going to watch their abortion of a version of it.)

Really, that’s what makes Xmas “successful” these days; oodles and oodles of presents? There always has to be one “last” one or one “big” one. This rationale is why America is hated. It’s always more, more, MOAR!1!1 Be like a pig and be happy with the shit you already have. I have a shelf of DVDs I will never watch, a closet full of clothes I will never wear and a bunch of books with big, scary words that I will never read. Why do I need more?

If I wasn’t planning on being shitfaced drunk Tgiving night (Hey, don’t blame me, it’s a Theory family tradition and how we all tolerate ourselves for a few hours) I would go out and interview these nutcases who are waiting outside of stores on Tgiving Day. Here are some of the questions I would ask these brain surgeons:

If you waited outside a Best Buy last Tgiving, what did you wait for?

Random hot Santa girl, because...um...

Can I get a quick hummer in the backseat of my car? (Note; only asked to drunk girls who would still otherwise be attainable)

Where is your self-respect, man?

Does your tent have a bathroom, because you sure smell like shit?

What’s so motherfucking important that you motherfucking have to ruin someone else’s motherfucking Tgiving?

You know this store is generally open 363 other days of the year, right?

What’s more important; a shitty TV for $5 less or your dignity? Wait, stop, I think I already know the answer.

I’m guessing no one in your family is missing you right now.

Can you please tell me where you work? I want to drag your ass in buttcrack early on a holiday, and trash the place. I might be a little bit tipsy, too. But you’re probably cool with that.

I double dog dare you, NO, I triple dog dare you to take some of this money you’re saving and put it in the red bucket over there. Your move, Mr. Christmas.

“Boy, the line for the Asshole Meet Up sure is long today.”

Every piece of technology you’re buying today will most likely be obsolete by next year.

You’re the reason we lost the election.

You are why the terrorists hate us. Yes, YOU! (Shove my finger into their chest.)

You know this Best Buy opened up at 6 AM this morning and sold out all of the doorbusters, right?

Again, please, I beg of you, DO NOT go shopping on Tgiving night. Don’t be a sheep. Make a stand, at least one time in your miserable life. Just because you may have a job where you annually score this weekend off doesn’t entitle you to be an asshole to someone else on a holiday. Sit this one out, spend time with family and friends-at least the ones you can tolerate. But if you still feel the need to drunkenly and recklessly spend your money, please do so at any of the below links. I assure you, it’s easy, the money means a lot more and goes a lot further and it is actually something that is truly in “the spirit of the holidays.”

Alive Inside

Dale Earnhardt Foundation

Rape Abuse & Incest National Network

Community Crisis Services, Inc.

Philadelphia Animal Welfare Society

The Saddest Place During Christmas; The Mall

Whoever said this is the “happ-happiest time of the year” is a liar. A filthy, dirty liar. Well, the blog subtitle is “Saying what needs to be said” and this needs to be said.

So why am I writing a post like this at this time of the year? 1) Because it needs to be expressed and 2) did you really expect anything less of me on Xmas week? This isn’t some fantastical Hallmark Channel movie, kids.

 And really, this is the result of a visit to one of the saddest places on the face of the Earth; the Mall. 

Santa went to the Taco Bell, kids. He'll be back Thursday.

OK, I will frame this by saying it’s Tuesday, December 20^th, about noon. So if you’re at the mall, it’s either on your lunch break or you had to eat a personal day to (start and) finish your shopping. (Or you’re unemployed, but no one cares about the jobless on Xmas.) As I enter the mall (which I haven’t been into in ages), one thing is bloody apparent; no one is smiling. Not one shopper. Not one retail employee. Not. One. Whatever Disneyland is purportedly to happiness, the American Mall Xmas week is the exact same for unhappiness. 

"This...is...bullshit."

It conflicts with my laid back, almost surfer-like attitude. I don’t deal well with the “hustle and bustle.” I don’t like dealing with crowds. It’s just a lot of work for negligible return on investment. All this shopping, hustling and bustling, and Xmas just goes by. I’m left holding some new socks, a full belly and sick of everyone.

So where was I? The mall, right. Apparently, this mall has one of the last remaining Sears in existence. I enter through Sears, where I see a healthy amount of shoppers, and almost zero employees. From here, I enter the mall itself. Where there also appears to be a healthy amount of shoppers, I don’t really know how to tell. And like I said, no one is happy. There’s even jackoffs wearing Santa hats that are unhappy. I’m at the mall because I have to buy a girlie calendar for my brother.

Like, I can't even tell what month this is. But I'm not really complaining.

 It’s tradition that we buy each other girlie calendars. I’m pretty sure the Currier and Ives mentioned in “Sleigh Ride” were actually early nudie photographers. The more you know, right?

Right.

I enter on the first floor because that’s where the store I needed to go to used to be. Last year. Since then, it has seen fit to further my rage with the mall during the holidays by moving ALL THE WAY to the third floor. Bloody hell. Since I have some walking to do, I decide to put myself squarely in the river of holiday shoppers to see what I discern. Maybe I am missing something here. Maybe I have been wrong all these years, and I just need some time to see the true beauty of the holida…..

Nope, no, fuck it. I see people clearly spent. I see grown men wandering around like they are zombies. I see young children running about loose. Their parents probably just leave and let the mall work that problem out.

"Mommy said to stay."

I walk by the court where Santa and Mrs. Claus are. Does Mrs. Claus have a first name? Doris? Phyllis? Beyonce? I don’t know, so we’ll just call her Mrs. C. (On an unrelated note, I used to have a teacher we called Mrs. C, but her last name certainly wasn’t Claus ifyaknowwhatImean.) The Claus’ are true pros; they are smiling and seem genuinely happy. I imagine it’s because they roofied each other at the start of their shift, and they know in less than a week they’re vacationing in the Keys. I wind my way around to the escalators to get to the third floor. As I get to the third floor, I am shocked about how you never hear of any jumpers in this mall. I can’t imagine there are many three story malls left these days. And this is certainly the time of year for that sort of thing. I wonder if ‘mall security’ is trained to even spot potential jumpers. I mean, I was openly sobbing like a widow for a good twenty minutes, and no one ever checked on me. I compose myself and walk past the Bath and Bodyworks store. I see about half a dozen husbands just staring down at the first floor. The mall might want to move this store down to the first floor, just sayin'.

"This....is...bullshit."

Like an assassin, I was in and out. And I wish I was an assassin, because I could have used a firearm in the parking lot. While it wasn’t overly crowded, drivers were still finding creative ways to be assholes. Parking, not using turn signals, not looking when they pulled out in traffic. I think the best thing most people can get for Xmas is a freaking clue.

So I had escaped the saddest place during Christmas. I feel lucky, for all I know, there could be folks that just get trapped there and never leave; doomed to never find where they parked their car or desperately trying to redeem their mall bonus points for something at Orange Julius. I can rest easy; for the half naked girl on my calendar says I don’t have to go back for another year.