Good evening. All across the world tonight, little morality tales will play out about hardened men like me who don’t believe in the pageantry and wonder of Christmas. There was a time when I would have loved nothing more than to embrace the spirit of Christmas, to share love and wealth. But everyone was so busy with their own love and wealth when I was a boy that they never thought to share it with me. And now that I have all the wealth in the world but none of the love, everyone comes knocking at my door expecting me to share. A raw fucking deal if you ask me, my dear Christian brothers and sisters.
For Christmas has never been about celebrating what you have in spite of what you have not. It has been about separating those who have from those who have not. And even those compassionate enough to share their Yuletide wealth are still separating themselves from the less fortunate by saying “look at me, I’ve got the spirit of Christ in me and you don’t.”
Tonight three spirits will endeavor to put the fear of God back in me by showing me my sad little past, my pathetic little present, and my bleak little future. And after this draconian little display of theatrics I am expected to relent to Christian morality and shower the world in Ho Ho Ho.
But of what moral character would I be if all it took to change my most deeply harbored beliefs was a little fear and self pity? Of what moral fiber would I be? So let me state unequivocally that I Ebenezer Scrooge would rather spend an eternity in hell than be bullied into changing what I believe. So remember wee children: Jesus is Jewish, Christmas is not his birthday, Santa Claus is a figment of your imagination so go ahead and be naughty because nice guys get fucked by people like me and you need coal to heat your house. So have a terrible goddamned Christmas and I hope you freeze to death before the New Year. Oh, and one more thing:
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