Why I Hate Christmas With A Passion


‘Tis the season to be cranky, so let me spit out my eggnog and tell you what I hate about this enforced annual nightmare:

*The fact that it starts earlier and earlier each year. This year, the hype started in October! Next year it’ll probably be July.

*The relentless barrage of fake good cheer and forced joviality. It doesn’t sit well in New York City, where I thought people were supposed to be real, weren’t they?

*The horror of Christmas song after Christmas song coming at you, one cornier and more banal than the other. Am I supposed to be cheered by the annual shlockfest of hits by people who don’t even celebrate Christmas? And by Karen Carpenter?

*The pressure to buy gifts for people you only see once a year–namely the time you get together to exchange gifts.

*The equal pressure to receive them, which comes with the impossible need for you to find ways to look excited and grateful over mugs, candles, and perfume samples. That much acting training I haven’t had!

*The horror that comes when you regift something–to the person who gave it to you last year.

*The conflicting iconography that tears us between two fantasy icons–a religious one (Jesus) and a commercial one (Santa), both with potentially draining agendas. It could make you schizo.

*The way everything stops dead and clears out–except for incoming hordes of tourists–but you’re supposed to stay put and act like the city’s aglow with excitement.

But otherwise, I simply adore the holiday season!

Bring it on!

Ho ho ho!

Shoot me!