Fa-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-raugust? Fa-ing Raugust.

I love Christmas just as much as the next person; the consumerism, the crowds, the merchandise based affection, the slow advancing fervor that culminates in a sloppy religio-economic orgy; what's not to love?  It's a time of Joy™, Generosity®, and Caring©.  I once made a tongue-in-cheek reference to the very obvious fact that retailers were jumping on the Sell Christmas Shit Express Train way too early.  But it turns out that I was wrong... in the context of underestimation.  If you're keeping score at home, that's the first and most likely last time that it will ever happen.  So soak it up.  Today, August 26, 2010, I took the following photos:

That last one was actually just an IV from paramedic class yesterday.  It wasn't one that I did.  All the ones I did bled a lot more.  Actually, I guess now would be a good time to let everyone know that based on extensive research conducted yesterday, there has to be way more than 10 pints of blood in the human body. Anyway, I think the last photo illustrates an important point about the other two photos.  They're trying to bleed us dry.  Christmas in August?  What's more, I live in Arizona.  The temperature is still regularly breaking triple digits.  Santa's fat ass would literally die if he came down here with his furry jacket and arctic reindeer.  This is getting ri-goddamn-diculous.  It sort of makes me want to renounce everything upon which I've been raised and join one of the more rational countries and/or religions.  I wonder if there are any North Korean Raelian missionaries in my neighborhood that might be able to offer me a promise of eternal happiness and guarantee that all holiday seasons will commence on an appropriate timeline.  I would seriously consider it. At least in North Korea they're up front about the fact that you'll be worshipping a short fat guy with delusions of grandeur.  Here they don't tell you that.  They just quietly slip some Christmas paraphernalia in between the 40 lb. containers of Slim Jims and the 50 gallon drums of Jose Cuervo and hope the fish start biting.  We're the fish, in case you have the devastating learning disability known as analagexia.  It's not as dirty as it sounds.

The most startling thing to me is the very real possibility that all that Christmas crap was there even before today.  I haven't been shopping in a long time.  The toilet paper situation at my house was dire.  I've been rewearing well used underwear for weeks because we ran out of laundry detergent.  My beloved canine (pictured below) has been subsisting on a diet of dryer sheets and nickels for like a month.  So for all I know, they put that stuff in the store around the same time every ethnic Albanian that I knew was celebrating Sultan Nouruz Remembrance day.  But I don't know.  Because I didn't go to the store.  I was helping my Albanian friends celebrate.

So listen to Molly.  You can tell by her photo that she is both swift and wise.  Molly wants the order of holidays to remain.  Molly says it goes Halloween, My Birthday, Thanksgiving, theeeeennnnn Christmas.  Not fucking... Christmas pre-season, Labor Day, Christmas Lite, normal December 25th style Christmas, then like, Christmas Extra Time brought to you by FIFA World Cup®.  Have some decency American retailers.  Let us pay off our credit cards from last Christmas before you start flaunting stuffed Rudolphs in our financially overextended faces.

I would boycott Christmas altogether.  But let's be serious.  Harry Potter Lego Hogwart's Game is out this year.  And I can't risk getting trampled in a Wal-Mart style Christmas Sacrifice Ritual.  That's a role only a mother could fill.  Hint Hint.


And if you're wondering about the title, think of the Chinese restaurant scene in A Christmas Story.