tinhuvielartanis | Nov. 9th, 2005

I'm never in the X-mas spirit. I don't even call it Christmas anymore. It has as much to do with a Mass for Christ as MTV has to do with music videos these days. But it has everything to do with [BLING]BRAND Xsssssssssss[BLING BLING]. Yesterday I beheld a majestic pine in one of our national forests being torn down for the pleasure of Dubya (King Fuckerhead) Bush. It will be draped with garish manmade ornaments and hideous plastic baubles that will be here thousands of years after the Alpaca Lips takes us from this weary planet. Little childrens (yes with an 's') will gather and sing for our shit-for-brains prez and "oo" around the slowly dying tree like Whos on crack, and everyone will get that little tickle of peace on Earth and good will toward men all the while blindly supporting genocide and torture just as long as it's "over there, over there, over there, we don't care, over there," and feel that odd little compulsion to go out and be consumers for Christ.

Oh and don't forget the homeless over here, over here, over here, spread that cheer over here! They only really need two meals a year, did you know that? Everyone is eager to stuff the homeless like the unfortunate birds that are planning on bestowing upon us their current plague (with a little help from those pesky government-sanctioned mad scientists). Actually, the homeless don't even exist any other time of the year. They just abandon their homes so they can stand in long lines and enjoy the endless libations of canned beets and green bean casserole (which I believe was created in a bioweapons lab somewhere in Ghana). I mean who the fuck thinks of showering milky green beans in a pan with obviously nuked crackly fried onions? Who the fuck eats it? The homeless? Ahhh! That's why they're homeless. The gas they get from all the turkey, beets, and green been casserole demands that they stay out of doors for at least 11 months. And all this time we've been blaming the green house gazes on those goddamned cows as we drive ourselves to Mickey D's.

Fuck X-mas and all it stands for now. And fuck anyone who falls for it. Here's an idea. Instead of going out and buying a bunch of shit no one needs, go out and buy They Live and watch it every time you feel the urge to watch an X-mas special or scamper out and buy decorations for your house. If They Live doesn't open your eyes to what this season is all about, you're hopeless and deserve to die in the Alpaca Lips. Amen.

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