And so we come to yet another Christmas.
Funny thing, Christmas. It's the one holiday we have that is in fact totally pointless. Jesus – if he was the messiah, if he even existed – was not born on December 25th. It's not the solstice, or any other astronomically significant moment in time. It's just a date. A number drawn out by the random processes of historical convenience. (Man, the strain of that essay on RNGs is really having an effect…)
Most of the movies on TV now fill me with dread and revulsion. Endless exortions to return to the basics, to recover the spirit of Christmas and so on and so forth. This holiday, then, is the time our long dormant collective consciences can be tapped and channeled into a variety of deserving or undeserving causes. Resistance is futile. Surrender to Jeebus! To the poor Africans! To the buy one get one free!
You can only hear Jingle Bells so many times before you go on a rampage. I don't need a Christmas holiday. I need a holiday from Christmas.