HA! HA! I don't even give a shiny fuck if it's Photoshopped or not that's some funny shit.

The "holiday season" is rapidly approaching. [spit] You know that scene in The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers when the defenders of Helm's Deep look out across the pass leading up to the Deeping Wall and see the army of Uruk-hai approaching and they realize how hopelessly outnumbered they are? Well, that's pretty much how I feel right now expect instead of 10,000 Uruk-hai I see All Hallows Eve (Halloween), Hatesgiving (Thanksgiving), Hatemas (Christmas), New Year's Eve, and the abhorrent Houston Fatstock Show and Rodeo lumbering towards me each second of time bringing them closer and closer. Unfortunately for me there will be no Gandolf and accompanying army of Roharim to save me when my need is most dire, I will simply have to weather the storm as I have done year after year since my stint as a human began a quarter century ago. I gotta tell you though each fucking year gets harder and harder to bear. For the first time I can remember I've actually been requested to attend functions where I would be required to wear a costume for All Hallows Eve. As anyone who reads this site with any regularity would assume, since wearing a costume is associated with an air of merriment and happiness, I'm in strict opposition to wearing costumes. I wear a stupid man-suit every fucking day, why should I be interested in tossing one more costume on top of a pile I'm already smothering myself in? Thank our strict adherence to the Roman calendar that All Hallows Eve falls on a Sunday and I can "regretfully decline" any invitations to costumed parties and affairs of any sort due to it being the Sabbath.
I'll be able to brush off All Hallows Eve with relative ease due to the nuances of our archaic dating method but the following "holidays" won't be so easy to dismiss. Hatesgiving always falling on a Thursday is a real bitch. If this Hatesgiving is anything like last year's I most certainly won't be seeing Hatemass or New Years as my hatepot will have boiled over during post Hatesgiving meal activities and my brain will hemorrhage in rage instantly ending my tenure on this forsaken plane of existence and all my earthly concerns. A joyous occasion to be sure, unfortunately it would also mean that my enemies who masquerade safely behind the familial veil will have done me in and I refuse to relinquish that satisfaction upon them. Hatemas is in the same boat as Hatesgiving what with kinfolk being around and all. As the days and weeks wear on I will be forced to recede deeper and deeper into a void of unfeeling apathy so as to save myself from the rigors of freely associating with people hell-bent on regurgitating their ill-conceived holiday cheer with pithy phrases like: "Happy Thanksgiving!", "Merry Christmas", "Happy New Year!", etc. What's so fucking merry and happy about these fuckers? You get a day off from work? I guess that's cool. It's a socially acceptable day for all the plebes to get drunk and piss themselves? Fucking stupid. If you enjoy getting drunk and pissing yourself than fucking do it year round! I do, it's fucking awesome, I have a great time and I don't have to force a year's worth of cheer into a few random nights throughout the year. God dammit!
Thanksgiving? Shit, we're celebrating the white man's arrival on this continent and the subsequent annihilation of an entire indigenous people. Christmas? What, you think you're celebrating the birth of the Christ child? Afraid not.

In ancient Babylon, the feast of the Son of Isis (Goddess of Nature) was celebrated on December 25. Raucous partying, gluttonous eating and drinking, and gift-giving were traditions of this feast. In Rome, the Winter Solstice was celebrated many years before the birth of Christ. The Romans called their winter holiday Saturnalia, honoring Saturn, the God of Agriculture. In January, they observed the Kalends of January, which represented the triumph of life over death. This whole season was called Dies Natalis Invicti Solis, the Birthday of the Unconquered Sun. The festival season was marked by much merrymaking. It is in ancient Rome that the tradition of the Mummers was born. The Mummers were groups of costumed singers and dancers who traveled from house to house entertaining their neighbors. From this, the Christmas tradition of caroling was born. In northern Europe, many other traditions that we now consider part of Christian worship were begun long before the participants had ever heard of Christ. The pagans of northern Europe celebrated their own winter solstice, known as Yule. Yule was symbolic of the pagan Sun God, Mithras, being born, and was observed on the shortest day of the year. As the Sun God grew and matured, the days became longer and warmer. It was customary to light a candle to encourage Mithras, and the sun, to reappear next year. Huge Yule logs were burned in honor of the sun. The word Yule itself means "wheel," the wheel being a pagan symbol for the sun. Mistletoe was considered a sacred plant, and the custom of kissing under the mistletoe began as a fertility ritual.

Genocide and deifying the mother fuckin' scareball, that's what we're celebrating folks.
Now, I don't really fucking care what is being celebrated or for what reasons. All I know is that this fucking "holiday season" fucks with my status quo and, as a victim of habit, fucking with my status quo is fucking with my life. It stands to reason that I don't want anyone fucking with my life except me (and I do a damn fine job of it too, by the by). It's not that I don't want people to be happy or filled with good cheer, but when they're filled with the spirit of the season because of a blitzkrieg marketing effort put forth by the entire retail industry rather than actually being excited about dining with family or giving gifts out of love it's a personal affront to me. Don't wish me a merry Christmas when you're only doing it because of a lifetime of watching Christmas themed television commercials; you expect me to say "merry Christmas" back to you but I'm not a fucking lemming and I hate you for trying to make me one. Thusly, therefore, so forth, and so on: fuck the mother fucking holiday season and the holidays contained therein. These fucking holidays only serve to make an insincere populace even more counterfeit and I take it as a slap in the face, and not just a regular slap in the face but a Bugs Bunny brick-in-glove slap to the face. Oh, and fuck me too. Fuck me because however much I piss on my haunches and gnash my teeth these fucking holidays can't be stopped and next year, if my carcass still breathes, just like herpes they'll be back.
You don't hear a lot of people bad mouthing Thanksgiving with all its delicious pies and giblets nor Christmas what with all the receiving of gifts and all. So I pretty much have to stand alone and weather the storm. Fuck it, I like writing down all this hate. I like writing it down so that in April when the world is free of holiday zeal for a few months I can go back and read all the wonderfully awful things I write and I can laugh at my misfortune just as I laugh at anyone and everyone else's misfortune. So maybe, just maybe, it's all worth it. Maybe going through this seemingly ridiculous ritual of hating on every holiday and being hated on in return is worth it for a brief chuckle in spring time. Wait a second… what the fuck am I saying? Of course it's not worth it. FUCK the holiday season!