Donning a screen-printed T with the message, “Santa ain’t real” I grab my megaphone and head over to the shopping mall.
I’ve steeled myself against the backlash I will receive, including any eviscerations from you people in the comment section.
I’m heading to the most unholy den of sin. The shopping mall. Where scantily clad tiny tots and obese cinnamon-bun-eating turds abandon all manner of order and reason to rack up their credit cards on useless shit.
But I can’t save them today. The extent of their brainwashing is too deep. If they want to leave the house clad only in a thin layer of designer bullshit on the coldest day of the year or if they want to ingest two thousand calories before breakfast, that’s their prerogative. I’m not going there for them. I’m going there for the kids.
Instead of handing out candy canes to rot their teeth I will be giving the little weasels the gift of truth. And unlike the vendor who is charging their folks thirty dollars of their hard-earned cash for an 8 x 10″ glossy of their crying child on a pedophile’s knee, my gift will be free.
As I walk out the door and look at the carcasses of the inflatable snow characters that have become all the rage in the last five years, I wonder, are these things recyclable? Maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance. Ha! The coloured lights and Frosty the Snowmen might make it seem like I am living in a fantasy world, but in fact, I remain grounded in reality.
They’re just disposable fun toys, erected like a condom and thrown away after the fun is over. They’ll look really nice alongside the garbage bags full of wrapping paper on the 26th.
I walk around the corner, past the “Jesus” house. You know, the one with the snow-white-Jesus-bathed-in-rays-of-light-from-heaven above the door. The house with the heavy wrought iron gate to keep out the solicitors.
“Jesus is the reason for the season.” That’s the horseshit they used to try to get us kids to buy into at St.John’s United while we sat in the pews daydreaming about Super Mario during the bizarre Christmas Eve candle lighting ceremony.
I’m only a couple blocks away from the mall now. There’s no turning back. It’s time to deliver the message to these kids:
“Don’t fall into the same trap as your parents! Don’t you dare believe this Christmas tradition has been going on for a million years! Don’t you dare believe you’ll break all the little kids’ hearts if you don’t perpetuate this myth forward! And don’t you dare believe Jesus is the reason for the season! The most devout people I know are down at the Wal-Mart right now, bowing to their true God.”
I’m crossing the parking lot. The only thing that can stop me now is a magic elf getting his lazy ass off his shelf.
I enter the mall and put the megaphone up to my lips.
“Merry Christmas you useless fucking sheep!”
The preceding was a daydream I had in the checkout line at Wal-Mart.
Merry Christmas everyone. Try not to hand over all your paycheques to the top one percent in exchange for conditional adoration from your kids.
Santa isn’t real. But greed and pollution are – so enjoy your fairytales about the North Pole before it melts.