![]() ![]() It’s as though a month-long season of a handful of holidays can mask another year of failures and disappointments in our friends, our family, our governments, and most of all, in ourselves. Beneath the paper-thin façade of seasonal joy lies a hollow, empty ocean, a gaping black maw of nothingness. So wretchedly merry, so disgustingly cutesy, and usually in a painted-on, plasticky way. The whole holiday is all just so….cheerful. It’s time to put my foot down on this Christmas humbug. And of course, the pièce de résistance, that fat stack of juicy presents under the tree from everyone’s favourite old Christmas trespasser, Santy Claus, and his cadre of mercilessly horsewhipped and abused magical flying beasts of burden (I’m sure the ASPCA would be very curious to examine the reindeer’s stables and living conditions up there at the ole North Pole).Īs a practising celebrant of not only Christmas but also Festivus, I’m obliged at this time of year to perform the Airing of the Grievances. The Black Friday sale is pretty good, too, especially for stocking up on cheap presents for yourself (don’t even try to be outraged, we all do it, even you….I saw what you did on Black Friday, Paul). Once in a great while, where I live at least, nature graces us with a blanket of snow, or at least a 100 thread count top sheet of snow, which I guess is pretty magical or whatever. She makes them and seasons them just right, with more filling than masa. Pilar certainly makes a killer tamal, especially the pork ones. ![]() The eggnog and Christmas Eve tamales are nice. Sure, the festive atmosphere is fine, I guess. “Bah!” said Scrooge, “Humbug!” Parker Lancaster presents The Christmas Curmudgeon’s Guide to the Three Least Heartwarming Versions of A Christmas Carolįor the cynics among us, Christmas can be a…complicated time of year. ![]()
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