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My beef with Christmas

  I’m sorry for those who are fa-la-laing it through this month but I’m disenchanted.
  Back in the glory days of Christmas past there was drunken caroling, eggnog, and HOMEMADE presents. And more eggnog, but I digress, now we are so commercialized that no one dreams of daddy going outside and witteling a toy train for junior. Or mother painstakingly stitching little miss a new dress. We just go out on black Friday and trample Walmart employees to death (who by the way aren’t making enough to participate in the “sale”) so that we can get our overly spoiled children the newest electronic garbage. Which they want five of and will cry for days if “santa” doesn’t come through.
  Speaking of Santa, the myth was always told to me that elves worked for most of the months of the year MAKING toys. Well if the toy clearly came from toys R us, then what part did the elves have? Did they go BUY said toy? THAT’S ABSURD!
  My parents never perpetuated the Santa thing, from an early age I knew mom and daddy were working their bums off so I could get my copy of David Copperfield and my brand new jammies. My step kids however are told the Santa thing by just about their whole family. Which I think makes them ungrateful for the sacrifices we make for them, and is unrealistic in this time because NONE of the toys they want are homemade. They may be made by other children working 15hr days in sweatshops, but not by someone who cares for them.
  When did Christmas lose it’s magic? It’s angels, and the spirit of Christmas where everyone wishes for world peace and buys tiny Tim a goose so he has a meal? Now we’d push tiny Tim down the stairs if it meant we could be that much closer to the new leappad mini. Or force tiny Tim to make it for our children. For all of our children. Why does no one else see this as absurd?
  This is my beef with Christmas: it’s gone too far. Make your kids a new hat and gloves this year. YouTube search how to do this. Also make them wander into the slums and help at a soup kitchen, or make them go around handing out toys to underprivileged children. But don’t trample any more of those wonderful retail workers who bust their butts just to put food on the table for their own families. Oh yeah, and drink a bunch of eggnog. It’s the only good thing left in this crap holiday.