Seeing the various levels of rancor regarding the Chrismahanakwanzaka season, I would like to present my peaceful solution, or my own Oslo Accords if you will. Alright, maybe not the best analogy. Or maybe the best. We live in an uncertain, postmodern time. Got that, buddy? Sorry, I need to calm down a bit.

Anyway, my prosposal is a classic standby. Festivus is truly a holiday for the rest of us, and by rest of us I mean all of us, right now. Here is a video that explains the spirit of the season. Festivus has a rich tradition beyond that of Seinfeld, though most of you are likely too ignorant to understand that. OK, OK, I am sorry about that last one. My Airing of Grievances is getting ahead of me. Please understand that lashing into others and the world about how they have disappointed me gives me more pleasure than you can imagine. And how do I know? Well, because one year, my family celebrated Festivus. What follows is a cautionary tale of anger, redemption, and triumph. It started when I stole a metal pole from a construction site. I planned on using the pole as a makeshift weapon to attack old women with (these were the days before use of the Jazzy was wildy accepted, so the ladies could not get away from my drunken rage). Upon seeing the pole, my family concluded that getting a Christmas tree was too much trouble and thus our Festivus was born. I am not sure what my bringing home a piece of metal had with the decision to get a tree, but they are all drunks anyway.

We propped the pole up with some cinder blocks as was the style of the time. Over dinner, the airing of grievances began. My father lamented over my brother's nebulous sexual orientation and over my sister's jawa boyfriend (or was he a tusken raider... hmm, we never did know as he was caught in a mysterious explosion). My mother forgot the decision made by the family regarding the Christmas tree because she was passed out at the time, so she chose to complain about how we lacked a proper tree for presents. What a materialist! My brother went on and on about how the latest fashions from Milan did not flatter his figure, and my sister babbled about something but frankly I don't remember because she is a woman and I doubt it could have been important. Which left me to speak.

I started by wailing upon the shallow buffoonery of the world at large. Those damn lox-eating limousine liberals I knew from Vermont took the body blows. Also, I had quite a bit to say about the recent GAP holiday ads on the television. Why do attractive people feel the need to sell themselves out so badly? I mean, prostitution is a perfectly acceptable alternative for some cash. I myself have paid for a good number of... hmm, I digress. After a rant about the lack of construction standards and security that, ironically, allowed for me to obtain the Festivus pole in the first place, I centered in on my family.

The words that I said are of little importance here, especially given the gag order and pending legal action, as well as the terms of my previous parole. However, my fundamental point is this -- a purely humanistic "holiday season" (and the resulting venting of anger and uncomfortable lines drawn in the PC sand) is way better than some wishy-washy religious junk that actually reminds you to love your neighbor even if they are some lox-eating limousine liberals. Because, let's be serious, shouldn't this time of year be equally as artificially uncomfortable for everyone involved? Think of it... if we can make this time of year so awkward for everyone, we might even be able to dump the "holiday" crap altogether. My example of pure humanistic pursuit should be a beacon to us all. No more looking into ourselves for peace, no more being nice to others as you get excited about an important time, no more special-ness of a certain time of year. It would be worthy of a celebration, just so long as there is no damn tree.

Posted by: wineaholic at 03:19 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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