Christmastime Already?

It just seems to be coming earlier and earlier every year, doesn’t it? And nowadays, it’s not the sound of Christmas jingles on megastore loudspeakers, or green and red M&Ms, or even the announcements of holiday sales in the useless faux-newspapers which clutter my mailbox that make me realize how soon Christmas will be upon us. No, it’s the annual publication of a rightwing screed against liberal Scrooges and their radical anti-Christmas agenda.

This year’s early entry? The detestable John Gibson, with The War on Christmas: How the Conspiracy to Subvert Our Most Sacred Holiday Is Worse Than You Thought. And now I shall turn it over to The Green Knight:

So far, only one Amazon reviewer has given it more than one star, and he was being sarcastic.

First of all, the "secularization" of Christmas that Gibson decries has been happening ever since Coca-Cola put Saint Nicholas into a red-and-white fur suit and turned him into Santa Claus. Yes, Virginia, that was a corporate action, turning a saint into a toy dispenser. The "secularization" has been noted and complained about ever since -- but it hasn't been done by the big bad libruls; it's been done by the corporate world.

Second, absolutely nobody is forbidden to celebrate Christmas. Nobody. Never was, never will. Let's get a grip.

Third, if you really are a Christian, you know (as Gibson, judging by his title, apparently does not) that the most sacred Christian holiday is Easter. Not Christmas. Easter.

Fourth, and I just think this needs emphasizing, John Gibson is a bonehead.
As for me, I want to know where Gibson lives, a place where, evidently, this insidious war on Christmas has been so successful that he isn’t bombarded for two solid months with jingles, adverts, trees, ornaments, Santas, reindeer, Navitity Scenes, ringing bells, carols, elves, sleighs, garland, bedecked halls, lights, cantatas, ribbons, giftwrapping, North Stars, North Poles, candy canes, stockings, wreaths, mangers, hay, donkeys, wise men, pageants, snowmen, snow angels, and all other manner of Christmas-related decoration and celebration to the point where he feels sure he will vomit tinsel. Because if a place totally devoid of all that manufactured, bought, and sold holiday cheer exists, I’d love to move there.

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