I Rate Christmas Related Things

Elf on the Shelf

I’m probably biased because this wasn’t a thing when I was a kid, but I find this concept to be so fucking creepy. Like, we already have Amazon and Google spies in the house, now Santa needs one? Aren’t parents essentially teaching their kids it’s okay to be monitored 24/7 by someone who is going to be intensely judging you even while you sleep? Not to mention it’s never a good idea to invite the fae into your house unless you have a fucking plan. I doubt all these Mommy and Me Bloggers are going to know what to do when it’s March and that stripey little bastard has stripped all their copper wiring. When I was a kid, the only thing Christmas elves did was bring a single present on Christmas Eve, and that present was always pajamas and, most importantly, left on the porch outside. And then they fucked off.


Christmas Ribbons

A pain in the ass to apply correctly without it looking like you did everything with your teeth, and getting those perfect curls is dark magic known only to Martha Stewart. Also, my cat has undiagnosed pika and will eat all of those ribbons before either barfing them up or dying, so fuck Christmas ribbons.


Radio Stations That Switch to Only Playing Christmas Music

Love this. It’s less important now that everyone is carrying around all of humanity’s musical achievements in their pocket and can put on whatever they want, whenever they want, but back when you got in the car and it was either the radio or the same mix tape you made six months ago it was nice to be able to switch to Christmas music for however long you wanted to, then switch back to the real world. Loses points because some of the stations switch to Christmas music while drunks in Joker and Sexy Joker costumes are still hobbling back from the club.


Company Christmas Parties

I have literally never been to one because I am not a chode. I’m already awkward enough at work, now I have to go to a party and, what, show these people the real me? Because I can tell you right the fuck now, no one I have ever worked with has seen the actual, real me. The actual, real me is fucking weird. The closest anyone came was back in ’14 when I worked seven night shifts in a row, and by the fifth night all of the walls I had oh-so-carefully constructed over the years started eroding from pure exhaustion. What do I talk about in a party setting with people I have to work with? Do I keep it to small talk, or do I let loose and start ranting about how The Last Jedi is good, actually, because someone was trying to take the franchise in a new direction for once, but it’s hard to pin down exactly what the general reception is because of internet shitheads making it their god damned job to slander it because of a fucking litany of stupid-ass reasons I can go into sweet, agonizing detail over right the fuck now? Get back here, Janet, we’re talking about the inherent misogyny and racism in older, white nerds and you are going to hear allllll of my opinions about it.

Also, how drunk are you expected to get at these things?

-1000/10, miss me with that shit

Christmas Branded Stuff at the Grocery Store

You know, like the Coke cans with the polar bears and the Kleenex boxes with the snowflakes or whatever. Give it to me. Now. Give it all to me. I don’t care how ridiculous it gets. Mistletoe printed on the tampon box? Want. Ritz crackers with the holes in the middle of cracker now shaped into snowflakes? Super want. Oreos with the crème inside dyed a bloody red? Yes, YES, I WANT ALL OF IT IN MY HOUSE. If Jeremy the produce guy is taking a hatpin to the bananas to punch MERRY XMAS into the peels I am buying that shit.

10/10, capitalism at its finest

That Cover of “Jingle Bells” That’s Made of Dogs Barking

Nothing gets me thinking, ‘man, I can’t wait until the Yellowstone Caldera blows up and ends it all’ faster.


Pretending Santa is Real for the Children

Which children? Any children. I don’t care if they’re yours, if they’re vaguely related to you, or if you don’t know them at all. When an opportunity presents itself to either continue the lie of Santa or spill the beans, you continue the damned lie. Do you remember the insane learning curve of growing up? It’s like, you’re five and learning that there are seasons and different animals make different noises and the Indians called corn maize, and not even ten years later you’ve been filled in on war, genocide, and the eventual heat death of the universe. All of this while your brain is still cooking and your hormones are spiking and your concept of what’s important is so very, very skewed. Life, in general, starts to suck very early, and very fast, so I say kids should be allowed to think there’s magic in the world for as long as possible. It’s also why I’m incredibly pro-Halloween. These kids are less than a decade away from learning about how the ocean is almost completely out of fish, give them all the fucking candy they want.

5000/10, anyone who tells a child Santa isn’t real before they’re ready to hear it is going straight to hell

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