I hate christmas

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I hate christmas.
Yes, i typed this. The drunk archer has not been killed or her password stolen. This is she… Her… And she types this. She also typed something similar before: here. So this holiday-hate is real.
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Normally, I don’t really care. But, something about the excitement and the joy of the parents as they excitedly get string after string of colored lights to set the house on permanent multi-color blinkiness annoys me.
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How in the world did christmas go from a kid born in a manger to restore mankind’s salvation to an obese, red-coat-wearing bearded man legally breaking into houses and keeping track on the affairs of the worlds’ kids?
The fact that he doesn’t even exist and rides on the back of hard-working parents is even the more wierd. And all the reindeers… And christmas trees and North pole… How did those fit into the nativity story??
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Don’t even get me started on the Nigerian Father christmas. An emancipated man with a large pillow for a belly and a raggedy white beard, his black hands and face still in full view. Fooling NO ONE and scaring really small children.
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Father christmas for Christ’s birth and Easter bunnies for His resurrection. The whole of Christian history buried beneath an over-weight man and a mutant egg-laying rabbit.
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I blame white people for this.

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