Keep the SHIT in Christmas

My first thought with this title was to do some holiday anagrams.  Most people do not realize the letters in Christmas can be rearranged to spell, “Crams Shit.”  You can turn Frosty the Snowman into the phrase, “Mean Frothy Town.”  Santa Claus is coming?  “I act, I moan, cuss slang.”  I was working on turning the phrase “Kiss under the mistletoe” into an anagram and got, “Hoe, I meet drunk tits less” when I realized that was not the direction I wanted to go.

I mean, it is funny that so many Christmas themed sentences can be made deviant, but am I really that childish?  Okay, one more:  Jesus Birthday turns to “I just beard shy.”

But then I realized that Christmas is, in fact, full of shit nowadays.  From political mouth breathers who foment the myth that there is some kind of war against Christmas in America to the millions of people dealing with some sort of tragedy around the holiday, there is a lot of shit.  It is probably why there is a myth that suicide rates increase around the holidays when in fact suicide rates are lower in December than in any other month.

Guess that rumor could be considered another piece of shit floating around in the eggnog, uh?  We cannot just enjoy the season, we have to be falsely guilt tripped into worrying about Uncle Simon slicing his own wrist instead of the ham.

Sometimes I do feel like the old man shouting at the neighborhood kids to “get off my lawn.”  Sometimes I do just want to rant and rave, “It wasn’t always like this!  In my day, Christmas wasn’t so full of shit!  And get off my lawn, you shit eating kids!”  However, I stop myself and self-reflect and realize that Christmas has always been full of shit.  It was just that my parents and grandparents did their best to keep the shit away from us kids.  But I recall my last Christmas with my grandfather as he was wasting away from the self-inflicted diseases of smoking and drinking.  I recall the awkwardness around my uncle and aunt the Christmas before they divorced.  Shit always seeped its way into the holiday.

The winter choir concert where there were only two of us in the boys’ tenor section so I belted out our part louder than a jet engine being turned on in the gym… that was an embarrassing shit moment too.

Thinking about it, I realize that trying to keep the shit out of Christmas is a pointless and ultimately self-defeating practice.  I gave up trying to keep the Christian aspects of Christmas out of my life when I was 16 – the holiday is not turning back into Saturnalia or Yule anytime soon, so why fight it?  I celebrate my way, and even honor the backwards Christian beliefs by going to a church service on Christmas Eve.  Why fight it?  So why fight the shit?

Shit happens.  They made a bumper sticker to prove it.  Someone is going to die.  Someone is going to break up or get a divorce.  Someone is going to end up in the hospital and have her leg amputated.  Someone is going to have her car brakes go out and have to spend $600 on replacing them and her bad battery.  It is inevitable.  Life, good parts and bad, do not just stop because it is a holiday.  Life does not care.  It can be a Monday in the middle of June or 11:59 pm on Christmas Eve, but something bad will happen to someone somewhere in the world.

But that means something good will happen to someone as well.  Balance will be maintained.  The best we can do as humans is support those around us going through the shit as best we can, and celebrate with those around us are getting the blessings of St. Nick.  Eventually, the roles will be reversed or we will be the ones dealing with shit and we will want the same support.  That is what it is to be alive.

And if there is one constant through all the different holidays that “Christmas” is celebrated as – birth of Jesus, the loosening of societal moral constraints, victory and asking for a good harvest – it is we are celebrating life itself.  And sometimes life is shit… and sometimes it is a glorious existence of fucking sunshine farting unicorns.  So celebrate all of it.

At least, that is what I tell those kids who still will not get off my lawn.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s