On this day three Zoroastrian’s with nothing better to do stumbled upon the newly born king of the Jews under a star that went super nova long before they ever saw it. The child pissed a lot of people off and declared himself the son of god. He had a foot thing…seriously. He got his boys to talk about him where ever they went. Then finally he let one of his friends sell him out to the Romans because it’s what his old man wanted. Then a few days later his mutilated and bloated dead body went missing. He appeared in the sky and said some spooky shit. Over two thousand years later we celebrate this day by waiting for an obese man to break into out home and leave us gifts. These are symbolic because they represent our economy. I don’t think Santa is aware of this. We thank him with milk and cookies because that shit is apparently impressive to Turkish Bishop.
A lot of people get all bitchy because during the coldest part of the year we cram into a house with our families; trapped we turn on one another in a struggle for dominance in a guilt fueled battle royal. The winner will return to their home far away feeling far worse for their victory. In these dark times we can find comfort and protection in knowing that at least we didn’t have to wander, following only a star, from the fucking east to give a bunch of strangers shit they didn’t need. I mean, that had to take a long time on foot.
Rev. Eric Jackson