Status: Don't read if you're easily offended!
Merry Christmas, Kiss My Ass
You
I hate Christmas. It is the epitome of fake. It represents all that is fake. It’s a fake day, a stupid excuse for a holiday and the worst time of the entire year. I know what you’re thinking. I’m cynical, I’m bitter, I’m all wrong. No. You’re wrong. You’re stupid. You have been sucked into the vortex of fake that is Christmas. And the worst part? You’re fucking happy about it.
You make me fucking sick. You, with your plastic Christmas tree, your overly bright tinsel, your stupid cookies, your stupid songs, and your stupid fucking presents that will probably get returned and exchanged for something better. You are participating in all of this bullshit. It is your fault that December is the worst month of the entire year. It is your fault that the 25th of December isn’t just a day anymore.
Now, don’t you defend yourself. Don’t you try and tell me that Christmas isn’t just about the presents. Don’t you dare try to tell me that Christmas means something. Because you’re wrong. And the second you realize that, the better off you’ll be.
Christmas is all about the presents. There. I said it. I knew it, you knew it, but wouldn’t it be lovely if we could all pretend it meant something more? It doesn’t. It’s money. That’s it. The tree, the decorations, the food, Santa-Fucking-Claus. It’s all just a way to make money.
You have made it this way. You are at fault here. If you would just see things the way I do, maybe the 25th of December wouldn’t be such a fucking joke. But no, you’d prefer to sit back and open your presents, wrapped up in obnoxiously bright paper with a little fucking bow tied perfectly on top. You would prefer to eat ridiculous amounts of food that was sold at double the normal price. You would prefer to tell kids about an old man that’s coming for them in the middle of the night. You would prefer to ruin Christmas.
Don’t you tell me that I’m the one that is ruining Christmas. I’m not. You are. I’m just here to make you realize what you’ve done. Congratulations.
You think I’m being judgmental. I know you are. Because that’s just who you are. And we can sit here and pretend that we’re all so fucking great and we can participate in this society that sells t-shirts and hats and fucking ceramic cups that say “don’t judge” on them, when that’s exactly what we’re all doing.
So yeah, I’m fucking judging you. The difference is, I have the balls to say it to your face. And I can enjoy this, too, because I’m comforted by the fact that I’m right and you’re wrong. Don’t even try to deny it. You’ll only be digging yourself a deeper hole.
You make me fucking sick. You, with your plastic Christmas tree, your overly bright tinsel, your stupid cookies, your stupid songs, and your stupid fucking presents that will probably get returned and exchanged for something better. You are participating in all of this bullshit. It is your fault that December is the worst month of the entire year. It is your fault that the 25th of December isn’t just a day anymore.
Now, don’t you defend yourself. Don’t you try and tell me that Christmas isn’t just about the presents. Don’t you dare try to tell me that Christmas means something. Because you’re wrong. And the second you realize that, the better off you’ll be.
Christmas is all about the presents. There. I said it. I knew it, you knew it, but wouldn’t it be lovely if we could all pretend it meant something more? It doesn’t. It’s money. That’s it. The tree, the decorations, the food, Santa-Fucking-Claus. It’s all just a way to make money.
You have made it this way. You are at fault here. If you would just see things the way I do, maybe the 25th of December wouldn’t be such a fucking joke. But no, you’d prefer to sit back and open your presents, wrapped up in obnoxiously bright paper with a little fucking bow tied perfectly on top. You would prefer to eat ridiculous amounts of food that was sold at double the normal price. You would prefer to tell kids about an old man that’s coming for them in the middle of the night. You would prefer to ruin Christmas.
Don’t you tell me that I’m the one that is ruining Christmas. I’m not. You are. I’m just here to make you realize what you’ve done. Congratulations.
You think I’m being judgmental. I know you are. Because that’s just who you are. And we can sit here and pretend that we’re all so fucking great and we can participate in this society that sells t-shirts and hats and fucking ceramic cups that say “don’t judge” on them, when that’s exactly what we’re all doing.
So yeah, I’m fucking judging you. The difference is, I have the balls to say it to your face. And I can enjoy this, too, because I’m comforted by the fact that I’m right and you’re wrong. Don’t even try to deny it. You’ll only be digging yourself a deeper hole.
♠ ♠ ♠
Part 1/4