On Christmas

If you’re having a good Christmas, there’s no point reading this. I’d advise against it!

Anyway, I’ve read some pretty strange theories on where Christmas comes from. And though I won’t confirm nor deny, I do still think about them whenever the holiday comes up.

That Christmas was stitched onto pagan holidays. Some say that Rome reconfigured Saturnalia into Christmas for the newly converted. Some argue that Christmas goes back further, to Nimrod, Babylonian king turned deity, celebrating his reincarnation. Is it true? I don’t know, but it’s amusing.

Another curious fact is Santa Claus. You have the anagram of “Satan” and then you also have “CLAUSE” as the last name. As in contracts. Tracing back to Saint Nicholas there’s a story where he, sneaking by the night, gives daughters-to-prostitutes some money, dowries to “save them” from such “fate” as the family was growing poorer. Three of them. “HOE HOE HOE”. Perhaps there’s more to the story? Delivering “presents” to the rich.

I also like how there are obvious MK-Ultra signals tied to the seasons. A Charlie Brown Christmas, where Charlie is constantly belittled and bullied and ignored by his parents as some amorphous distant voices. This is how you quietly mold the psyche of someone to be “driven”. “Driving someone insane” until they do your bidding.

Rudolph, again, is another one constantly belittled and ostracized. As his nose turns red (where the meaning could be infection and sickness, or sure drunkenness, and therefore “defenses are down” toward pliability) so he eventually “proves” himself useful after being discarded for so long. Read between the lines: he was “activated” for a “single night”, literally “driven” by Santa Claus.

Our modern conception of Santa Claus comes from the political mind-shaper Thomas Nast. He helped popularize the donkey and elephant of politics you know today. The very first depiction of this modern Santa Claus was him holding a noose of “Jeff” Jefferson Davis, the then president of the Confederate States from 1861 to 1865. The only one. Perhaps he’d be strangled by Satan’s Clause, unifying the nation once more? The same clause that unravels in the news however slowly, however one could wonder the next control mechanism.

Do keep in mind all the above is mostly useless knowledge. There’s no point knowing it. Don’t even bother learning it. I’m just reminded whenever the season comes.

Growing up my favorite parts about the Christmas season were the lights and small sweets, mostly. We’d drive around and look at lights everywhere. Gifts were cool and all, and what kid wouldn’t look forward to it? But upon reflection I sometimes wonder if it’s just another emotional harvesting ritual.

After a certain age, unless you overcome it in a Buddha fashion, some disassociation master, so most holidays have a tint of melancholy to them. I guess it’s “paying back” all the “happy debt” one accumulated. But I’d trade all the gifts I ever received to not see family so sad on the periphery of Macy’s, or loitering by the storefront, lost in the Hess trucks and other ornaments. Picking up the last one and seeing the reflection of all the people missing by the shine of the fluorescent. I always wondered why adults looked so sad during the holidays, but that’s what happens: it all accumulates and mixes into this strange distance, ping-pong of nostalgia and shook heads to forget it. Watching the mall shutter its doors. Empty office buildings.

The main act of merriment in today’s Christmas is, of course, gifts. But is there a gift that would keep one happy beyond a few days? I’m not sure. But it does, in a most banal “a-ha!” one could say, increase the bottom line. Kept in mind so it’s no surprise seeing the universality and embrace of Christmas in every marketplace. Like Japan. They did the lights splendid.

You could be surprised when you travel abroad and see all these other cultures celebrate a holiday supposedly “close to home” --- but one shall also remember you’ve been a “cultural orphan” since birth anyway. All the things you identify with yourself, love and hate of yourself, were already set in motion by those who steer “nations”. I wonder if you ever felt the plastic sewing of your disposition.

One could wonder what “TRVE” culture would mean. I think it’d be something like Whoville, if you still crave such things. The holiday was secondary to the circle of the village, the linking of hands. We can say we love the spirit of Christmas, but is it truly, or even necessary? To still live near the Grinch, or another ten kilometers further, it seems.

The jolliness of the season can be oppressive to those wrapping coats along the scars of their torso. In that forming scar tissue you still have to squeeze out notes and smiles, though to what end, or why, it doesn’t matter. In the throes of sure grief, destined for all, you’ll still shimmy through the checkout and repeat the methodical. Feeling silly for having any emotions at all, and then you drop that too in due time.

One could be reminded of “The Violence of Positivity” in The Burnout Society --- probably a better way to coin “normalizing power” or “soft power” or other wispy ways to press down on a psyche. It’s disguised as freedom, but in a hand-washy way: self-imposed and enforced hustle, grasping, gripping the bathroom counter and practicing your best smile until it feels that way. The best Christmas Tree by all of Instagram! One can be reminded that smiles in the animal kingdom are also a sign of aggression. “Baring your teeth”, until transfigured into a celebration of one another’s strength. “I can hurt you, you can hurt me, equally, so maybe we’ll equally enjoy this evening in temporary peace”.

Don’t get me wrong, I still like the violence of it. I’m not at all appealing to any morality that we “shouldn’t do this” --- one needs to keep up with the bleary eyed and ravenous if you want to keep the game going. I’ll triple the jokes and slap the backs drinking the best concocted eggnog-infused vodka. My red-nose will rival the soaped up blood of my liver. The violence of it is what makes me happy, in a way: conforms the same to any edict of Nature.

I drag my quill down further an’ wonder if, tuh’day, begins my embarkment beyon’ the pale.