The Bobbu Writes

Bah, humbuggery

You know what I hate most about the empty, souless celebration of boosting flagging mid-winter profit margins on ugly, ill-fitting socks that we call ‘Christmas’? It’s the omnipresence of the fucking thing in Western culture.

Mid-November we’ll see the first hints of “festive” gaudiness, designed specifically to ruin the beautiful clarity & minimalism of the winter palatte. Our ears will detect the first whispers of a selection of shamelessly cheesey music, attributed to the season through arbitrary tradition (though usually less that half a century old). Some of the incessantly cheery people we must tolerate due to the illegality of murder may even start uttering such mind-numbing sentiments as “only x number of days til Christmas.”

I will personally garotte with a length of tinsel, then shit the remains of a turkey sandwich down the gaping throat-wound of anyone uttering such banalities as the number of revolutions of the Earth remaining until an out-dated, over-publicised Christian holiday is used as an excuse for people to try to ignore the cold, desolate, gorgeous experience of winter.

It’s not even the oft-stated argument that Christianity re-appropriated Christmas from its original form as a pagan festival that has any bearing on my feelings towards the day: and let’s not forget that despite the months of dreadful bullshit we tolerate around it, Christmas is just 24 hours long. Sure, the winter solstice was celebrated long before Christmas turned up to replace it as the ubiquitous winter “feel-good” shitstorm; but the holiday we know and loathe now is entirely the fault of the fuckers who follow the Israelite hippy.

The fact that it was born of the culture that pretty much invented evangelical religion may go some way to explaining the all-pervasive nature of the season to fuck up any carol singers that come to my door with their own sprigs of holly. You see, before christianity got sick of being persecuted and took over governance of one of the biggest empires in human history, religion was a pretty pick & mix affair. Sure, states didn’t like it if you came up with new gods or religions, but the existing ones were pretty much given equal rights to celebrate whatever and whenever they wanted, thoughout the Roman empire.

Christianity was so focused on the idea that their god was the one true god, that they sorta missed the bits where Jesus had said to love & respect each other, and as soon as they had a foothold in Rome, they started on the road that led to the Spanish Inquisiton. Thanks, Constantine.

Because this cult of zombie-carpenter-worshippers had an unassailable grip on pretty much the entire European sub-continent for the best part of 2 millennia, the holidays we celebrate are predominantly theirs- no Samhain, it’s All Hallows Eve; no Mithras, it’s Christmas; no spring equinox, it’s Easter. If we just used the names of the christian festivals to describe times in the year when humans have for some reason always felt like putting up some kind of decorations & doing a little dance, maybe I wouldn’t be so pissed off. But no, we have to have the entire cultural fuckstorm that christianity has built around the holiday, to remind us that they’ve had the monopoly on cheering up sad fuckers at wintertime for centuries.

But why is Christmas such a pervasive presence all winter, when it only lasts a day? Why do we have to tolerate advent calendars, Santas grottos and incessant shitty songs all through the preceeding weeks?

Well, pople have always celebrated midwinter, because it used to be a time of austerity – the cold and the frost stopped crops from growing, and we had to survive with uncertainty of when the spring would arrive. We used to be fearful of long winters, stranded in a limbo between life and death. There used to be fucking meaning behind why we had to be cheered up in the darkest days, and even when it was wrapped up in religious nonsense like Mithras the sun god dying & rising again on the solstice, it was pretty much an unadulterated attempt to cheer up the village during bleak times.

Nowadays, we don’t have anything to fear from winter. Our food comes pre-packaged from anywhere in the world where it will still grow. We have enough scientific know-how to make pretty good estimates on what the weather will be like, and our houses will be heated by an uninterrupted supply of power. So why, in the name of Beelzebub’s unholy semen, is the human race in the Western Northern hemisphere still so reliant on this artificial winter cheeriness? Search me, I’ve no answer for this one, beyond “old habits die hard.”

Maybe if christianity hadn’t become so damned imperial, we would have a different celebration monopolising the season across the globe, but I doubt it. So we are stuck with the homogeneous soup of meaningless cultural bullshit for months when we could be enjoying the fact that we no longer have anything to be scared of when the long nights come.

I am sick of the prevailing social winds flying against me when I argue that Christmas is a pointless, meaningless tradition that has us still stranded in a pre-enlightenment mentality. We are being held back by the people who say “you just don’t understand the true meaning of christmas” – yes I fucking do: it’s so that you boring lizard-people who can’t appreciate variety in seasonal change can cheer yourselves up during the scarf-wearing times. You wish it could be hot and sunny every damn day, so you put up lights and sing cheery songs to try & turn night into day. What you don’t realise is that by usng the moniker of “Christmas” for your feel-good ritual, you give ammunition to the religious fucks who will go around muttering things about how “you can’t have Christmas without Christ.”

You want to celebrate the fact that you’re not dead yet every 25th of December, go ahead. But for the love of all things jingly and tinselly – stop livin under the pretense that little baby Jesus has anything to fucking do with it. Or that there are no people in the world who have the right to shove baubles up your nostrils, a spikey tree up your anus, and gift-wrapped thermo-nuclear devices into your eye sockets if you wish them a merry fucking christmas.

I’ll be a scrooge if I want to, and so long as I let you have your pretend religious celebrations, you should leave me the fuck alone on those days.

Bah, fucking humbug.

Published 25 December 2011 at 12:38 pm