Before I start I’d like to point out that two of the last three “Thoughts” entries are in consecutive Septembers. Gee, I don’t do a lot of thinking, do I? And I think I’ll apologize right here to any family members who find themselves offended by what I say here. Anyway, let’s get on with this.

Those few of you who are close to me may have noticed that I’m not the world’s biggest cheerleader for The Holiday Season ™. My lack of enthusiasm can be chalked up to my philosophical beliefs as well as my upbringing.

I get some amusement out of all the vitriol from Christians about how Christmas has become so commercialized. I can laugh because I’m tired not only of the rampant moneygrubbing but also the blatant religious imagery. That’s right, I’m equally offended by “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town” and “O Little Town Of Bethlehem.” That’ll be my favorite part of December 26th, not having to listen to holiday carols. Bleah. I heard that abomination of a carol that Michael Bolton (himself an abomination) perpetrated upon the listening public. Right after that I was forced to listen to “Jingle Bells” as rendered (in more than one sense of the word) by synthesized barking dogs. Grr. Hulk smash.

Oh, here’s a note to store owners (as if they care what I think): If your Christmas decorations go up on or before Thanksgiving, I will most assuredly say bad things about your establishment to anyone I converse with. Putting them up before Halloween will put you on my “avoid shopping here at all costs” list.

Do you want to know what Christmas means to me? It means enforced gatherings of what we all sarcastically refer to as The Family. Hi Grandma, Hi Aunts, Hi Cousins. Hi Dad, or Mom, or Sis, but never any two or all three of you at once. Yes, let us do make tense and lifeless smalltalk until we can escape. Oh yes, we really are one happy family. And let’s do it again next year, okay? You bet your sweet bippy.

Let’s face it. The Kerezmans and Kelseys and, ah, various other last names used on account of marriage (and divorce and marriage and divorce) aren’t exactly a chummy, casually friendly family. We don’t call one another up for idle chit-chat. We don’t go out and do stuff together. Family gatherings are almost always of the “someone stops by for an hour’s visit at the end of which they’re glad to escape” variety. We’re not bad people, mind you. We’re merely a band of socially awkward iconoclasts. Makes for riveting drama, I assure you.

I’ll grant you that I’m much, much, much better about this time of year now that I have my own small family. Wendi is determined to turn me into a Christmas-loving kinda guy. I think she’s out of luck, though. I will (at best) tolerate the so-called holidays. There’s too much psychic baggage and too much disgust at all of the greedy foolishness for me to become some sort of bright-eyed happy-go-lucky sort at this stage in the game.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go watch The Muppet Christmas Carol. What a damned fine, clever, adorable movie.

No, I’m serious. It’s one of the best of the Muppet movies. I’m not a complete Scrooge, you know.

Statler: It was stupid!
Waldorf: It was pointless!
Statler: It was…short.
(They look at each other for a moment.)
Statler & Waldorf: We loved it!

Scrooge: You seem a little absentminded, spirit.
Spirit of Christmas Present: No, I’m a large absentminded spirit!