Tis the season to be jolly...or take a shotgun to those fucking singing deer heads.

As an advocate of non-materialistic lifestyles, my commune-originated, ex-hippy family opts to pass on Christmas gifts. This results in, for the most part, a less stressful holiday; however, we usually cheat and buy something small (i.e.: a few years ago we were limited to only thrift store items for each other or we have a minimal price cap). We have decided that Christmas should really be for kids, ergo, all the children in our immediate and extended family enjoy all the attention. I recommend everyone try this approach. It deflects the holiday focus from massive consumption to a more intimate family gathering. As long as you make if clear to everyone you are acquainted with that may consider buying you a gift, you are free to enjoy the ridiculously consumer orientated, Christian propagandized greed fest.

Even if I didn't believe in the benefits of reduced consumption, I would do it solely to avoid the holiday mayhem in stores, traffic insanity on the streets, and onslaught of crappy, kill the fucking stereo, Christmas music that pours forth from every fucker with a stereo, street radio, store front, mall, convenience store, gas station pumps, peoples yards, those God-damn singing deer heads that have sprouted like a bad crabs outbreak on every available wall, and dancing Santa figurines that you want to bash repeatedly against those fucking lame-ass, country-singing deer heads.

The limited-time-only selection of mandarin oranges and eggnog almost make it worth it....until you go to buy them and are audibly assaulted by another one of those fucked up plastic deer heads singing at the end of the checkout line. Christ. I want to take my oranges and repeatedly pummel the fuckhead who thought that was some brilliant idea. Give him (because what female would glorify personification of a hunted, killed, then glorified Bambi) a fucking eggnog enema...see how witty a fake hunting trophy, singing deer head is then buddy. Moron.