I Can’t Wait For Christmas

Why is Christmas called a humbug?  What the hell is a humbug, anyway?  Shouldn’t it be “buzz-bug”?  That sounds like a bug that gets you high (heads up, NASA and DARPA, which is what I call my two cats; they like catnip).  Or else some kind of secret governmental listening device.  (According to J. Edgar Hoover, Martin Luther King’s favorite song was “Someone to Watch Over Me.”)

What kind of bug would hum?  I imagine a tick probably would–until you rip him out and set him on fire.  Then he’d go pop.  I’ve heard that Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh (no relation to Goldie or Jessica) has the nickname Papa Thich.  Either he’s not familiar with the English term for these pesky parasites, or he has a sick sense of humor.

(These days my family doesn’t pop ticks anymore; we just drown them in alcohol.  That way they can go out with a buzz instead of a bang.)

I wonder what song a tick would hum.  Probably “I’ve Got You Under My Skin,” just to be ironic.  That’s a love song Frank Sinatra sang to a tick.  He must have been a lonely guy.

A fundamentalist Christian firefly might hum Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start The Fire,” at least until his friends told him to shush.

The reason I can’t wait for Christmas is I’m really tired of hearing cheesy, schmaltzy Christmas songs everywhere I go.  Aren’t you?  I actually like most of the Christmas hymns my family and I used to sing together during our annual pilgrimage to the local church to do obeisance to Santa Claus.  The pastor there had bad dust mite allergies; whenever he sneezed, he’d shout, “WORSHIP!”

Korea is a heavily Christian country–I think about thirty or forty percent of the population consumes Vitamin J–for Jesus, and believe me:  a lot of them are heavy users.  And that explains why Christmas here is celebrated in a way that’s similar to–yes–Valentine’s Day.

In other words, in an act of kitschy one-upmanship, the public relations people who devise contemporary Korean culture have gone beyond all-American tackiness to make Christ’s birthday even less about Christ, and more about shopping for gifts–but not for your family, but in the name of sappy young romantic love.

Besides, why does Christ’s birthday get to be a (mainly) international holiday anyway?  I never asked for my birthday to be one.  A lot of good, decent, hardworking people have been sacrificed in the name of happy-go-lucky, indiscriminate bloodshed, but they don’t get to be the focus of so much fetishistic, commercialized attention.

I vote that since it’s 19 degrees Fahrenheit outside (and not much warmer inside), and that the sign I saw in a nearby shopping mall that said “Wishing You Warmth and Wonder in This Holiday Season” reads like a cruel joke, that we consign the following songs to the memory hole:

“Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” “Jingle Bells,” “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town,” “Jingle Bell Rock,” and especially “All I Want for Christmas Is You.”

All I want for Christmas is never to have to hear that fucking song again.

Amen, hallelujah,shalom, Allah akbar, namaste, and have a merry cockamamie Christmas.

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