Honestly, I hate Christmas. The shopping, the wrapping, the decorating and listening to bad Christmas songs while I sweat looking for an oil dispenser in an overheated 99 cent store – it’s simply torture. But every once in a while, somebody tells it like it is – reminds me what it was supposed to be about. After a few contemplative pints, I forget about who I might’ve forgotten to gift or tip and let go of the stress. If they’re going to remember me for forgetting them, then I hope Jesus turns their beer into O’Doul’s (please visit this site and tell me why one must be over 21 to enter when it’s a non-alcoholic beer?).
The other day, we attended a Christmas party at the VFW, prompted by our Boy Scout leader. It was a mad house of epic proportions – but that’s to be expected anytime you have a bunch of kids in a roomful of toys promised to them if they attended. Some kids thought it was a requirement to sing the aforementioned dreadful Christmas tunes in order to get a gift. If there’s anything more torturous than listening to Christmas tunes, it’s being forced to sing them, too. But sing ’em I did just to speed things along and help get these kids one step closer to obtaining a flashy piece of plastic they imagine is a toy they need to have before they spontaneously combust.
Then finally, an older veteran stood up and quizzed the children to tell us what Christmas was all about. Kids spewed out all sorts of answers and he repeated them saying, “Yes, it’s Jesus’ birthday,” and “No, we ain’t gonna sing ‘Happy Birthday, Jesus’,” but it was when he said, “What’s the most important gift about Christmas that we should never forget?”
The crowd went silent. He prompted with, “It’s better to give…”
And the crowd said, “than to receive.”
Ain’t that the truth? Because in my opinion, it applies to bullshit as well. Merry Christmas.