Vicky’s out wrapping gifts. I’ve been confined to the garage (with my WoW… and by that, I mean the video game) so I can’t see what she’s wrapping.
It got me to thinking. Here I am, Mr. Atheist, and I’m getting ready to celebrate another Christmas. I thought about what certain readers might be thinking and about what any future child of mine (should I be so lucky) might be tempted to ask… actually, about how they’d be ready to blow the Hypocrisy horn at any minute!
Sure. I’ll admit it. It’s odd for an atheist to celebrate Christmas. For that matter, it’s odd for anyone to celebrate it. It’s a mixed up holiday, confused as hell, cobbled together with big chunks of paganism and folk traditions, Christian self-righteousness and Roman leftovers – indoor trees and cynical drummer boys and nose poems by Robert May and let’s not forget good old, American CAPITALISM!
It’s about at fucked up as a holiday can get in this day and age.
And yet, I do celebrate it. Every year.
For all of its befuddlement, it’s a reason for loved ones to come together – which is a reminder (for me, personally) that there are loved ones and that I am loved. It’s one of those regular reminders that we have each other in a world where we seem so alone.
And maybe, for a minute or a second, there’s good will toward men… unless you’re a Republican, then it’s mostly just White Men… Rich White Men.
Merry Christmas, folks.
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