With the exception of New Years, and Halloween -- I tend to be somewhat cynical about the holiday seasons.
Now my detractors might argue that my lack of holiday cheer is merely a byproduct of the fact that at all hours -- be it Christmas freakin' day -- I have work to do -- and every second that I'm not working I'm digging myself a little bit deeper into a hole. However, my detractor's numbers are small -- and they are stupid.
I freely admit I wish I didn't have to work. However, relatively speaking, my bitterness about that particular aspect of the holidays is mere burp -- somewhat rude and unseemly. In contrast, any honest, reality-based reflection on the holidays will unleash a titanic hurricane of fowl odors; fierce winds, conjured from within the dark colon of American capitolism -- that morbidly obese drunk who eats nothing but cabbage and sausage. The stink is unbearable.