                                                                  #
 anada   "Jason on                                                #          
 242         Christmas"                +###           +###    +####    +###  
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                                by   #     #  # ##  #     #  #    #  #     # 
 21                          Jason   #    .#  ## #  #    .#  #   .#  #    .# 
 dec                                  *###  * #   *  *###  * *###  *  *###  *
 2000 .+#################################################################.net

        Well, Christmas is almost upon us.

        "Oh great," you say.  "Now he's going to bitch about Christmas!"

        Oh ye of little faith!  I have nothing against Christmas!  People
 complain all the time about the commercialization of Christmas, but that
 doesn't bother me at all.  That sounds to me like the ranting of a lot of
 liberal malcontents.  So who cares if the make red and green M&M's?  Who
 cares if people put up decorations in May?  Who cares if they have red and
 green condoms with a light on the tip so you can make your own Rudolph the
 Red-Nosed Ding-Dong?  Who cares if they make a Christmas Edition of Pokemon?
 Well, that last one would suck, but still, who cares?  Does it really take
 away from the season or does it just draw out the Christmas revelry?

        I don't mind giving gifts either.  In fact, I'm one of those sick,
 perverted individuals who actually ENJOYS giving gifts.  It's a sick joy I
 get from finding that perfect gift that nails the recipient right in their
 hot button.  Heck, in the old days, like 24 J.E., I would spend hours
 shopping for that perfect gift.  Thank God for the wonders of the Internet.
 Now I can give gifts under the pretense that I trekked to Asia and fought a
 Mongolian tribe for this little trinket that I know would bring the loved
 one such joy when actually I stumbled upon something in between surfing porn
 sites.  Yes, the look of surprise on their faces and the speechless
 exuberance in their eyes when they receive that thing that they've always
 felt that they wanted but could never articulate or at least excellent
 acting to that effect is almost reward enough for me.

        Almost.  Of course I want a gift in return.  It's not like I'm going
 for Sainthood here, for Christ's sake.  The downside of all this is that I
 know that my own hot buttons are as elusive as a sane chick who finds me
 hot.  Heck, I don't even know what I would buy myself.  I know it when I see
 it, though.  That always makes it a little risky, since I very often way
 outdo them.  Fortunately, those people who are close to me can usually get
 me an adequate gift, but only after multiple interrogations.  Yeah, presents
 are cool.

        I'll say this, though.  Christmas just isn't as fun as it used be
 when I was younger and stupider.  I remember that knotting of anticipation
 in my gut beginning as soon as the first wreaths graced the streetlamps of
 my childhood town.  For months I would stare longingly at the calendar as
 the days ground down.  There was the Christmas tree, Christmas cookies,
 Christmas arson, Christmas looting... Sigh.  Those were the days.  In the
 last few years of my life at home, my mother tried to strongarm me into
 feeling some Christmas cheer by forcing me to engage in those traditions
 that enjoyed when my mind was vacuous.  Maybe she was remembering times when
 she was younger and happier, but I'm remembering times when I was stupider
 and shorter.  I like Christmas, but all of the personal pageantry (i.e.
 WORK) got really old.  It's a lot more fun than Arbor Day, though.  Maybe
 I'd enjoy it more if I got a Christmas screw out of it, but elves don't turn
 me on.

        What can I say?  When I found out that Santa Claus wasn't my real
 dad, the whole thing lost its magic.

 .+##########################################################################

 anada242 by Jason                                                   (c) 2000
 ###################################################################anada.net
