Dear Christmas,

Fuck you. What the Hell is your deal? I turned on the TV tonight and what do I see? "How the Grinch Stole Christmas." What the hell, dude? November isn’t even half way over yet. Up next is “Wizard of Oz.” God help you if I find out that it has something to do with you, you greedy bastard attention whore. Can we please enjoy Thanksgiving? Just once? Please? Why do you always pre-empt Thanksgiving? Don’t get me wrong, I love ya, Christy. But for fuck’s sake, Halloween wasn’t even over for a day, it was October 31 1/2, and I couldn’t walk five feet into Wal-Mart without getting a candy cane shoved up my ass. Enough is enough. Seriously, I want to eat a shit-ton of turkey and go into a tryptophan-induced coma without someone busting my ass to go shopping, "Cause there’s only 32 days left ‘til Christmas!". So help me God, Christmas, if I go to the mall more than a week before November 23, and Santa’s fat ass is there. I will seriously fuck him up. Bad.
Now, please, don’t get me wrong – I love you, Christmas. I got my Beach Boys’ Christmas CD handy and the lights for my room all picked out. Hell, I might even buy an ugly-ass sweater. But, seriously, stop. Let Thanksgiving have his time in the sun. He’s between you and Halloween, the two heaviest hitters of holidays (Fuck Easter. It doesn’t count. It doesn’t even make any goddamn sense. How do we celebrate Jesus’ resurrection? A bunny laying eggs. What the fuck?). Thanksgiving is already overshadowed, don’t let him get overlooked. C’mon, Christmas, don’t be a dick.

Jarrod Ulysses Vanzo