Moon Void in Taurus/Uranus Surprise

Christmas is not my favorite time of year. It's almost blasphemous to say such a thing, isn't it? It's downright un-American. Well, I don't care. After all, there is very little about this celebration that is spiritual. It's a material girl's dream, to shop 'til you drop for shit you don't need and other people probably don't even want--every rich person's favorite holiday. Ooohh, goody-goody, maybe now you can show all the people in your family and all your assorted friends that you are an obscenely rich motherfucker, just in the kinds of presents that you buy for them. It pumps your ego way up to the popping point to have other people gush over what a generous gift/you shouldn't have when they receive their nicely wrapped present out from under the tree.

And what in the holy name of Jesus are we doing with the "Who's been naughty or nice?" Santa routine? A lump of coal for being naughty? Would Jesus have given a child a dastardly lump of goal for being human? I'm doubting it. Actually, I'm wondering what the fuck Jesus would think about the holiday that's arisen from his "birthday." Hmmm, yes, just when we need a nice greedy holiday to make us feel better--right in the middle of dark, winter days--we'll say that Jesus of Nazareth was born and we'll celebrate, by god. Even if we don't feel like it really is better to give than receive, we're gonna make a bee-line to the tree of silver and gold, the light-strewn symbol of paganism. Oops. Uhhh, wait. Erase that. Christmas is the world Christian holiday. We're killing the heathens even as we speak. There will be no talk of the yule log, egg nog, or what a solstice celebration actually entails. We're eating, drinking, and being merry, merry Christians, that is, and we'll have none of that Satan talk. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. And, oh yeah, uh, Santa.

What about Frosty the Snowman? How does he fit into the nativity scene? Let's not forget about Rudolph with his nose so bright, who, despite what the song says, was tormented because his name was Rudolph, not because he had a freakish nose. Reindeer don't care about that.

Don't forget how moved everyone feels when that age-old favorite, "Jingle Bells," comes on. Having never been on a sleigh, I don't know what all the fuss is about, and living in the desert, a merry pull through the snow isn't looking likely. I'm sure that "dashing through the snow" barely captures the joyous Christian sentiments? Maybe if we are drinking some wassail or egg nog, maybe some Tom 'n' Jerrys, we're feeling on top of the world as we dash along to sing some other touching Christmas carols to people drunker than we are. It is a touching time of year. Except for after the brats open all their loot and get hyper and annoying. By then, the Christmas ham is the least of your worries. Drinking enough egg nog becomes top priority.

But it's a holiday, good Christian people, and your radical fundamentalist Christian president just wants you to enjoy it all with your families. It makes him feel all warm inside to maim entire family groups while we, with our families, celebrate the birth of the man who encouraged us to love our neighbors as ourselves (including enemies) and reminded us that the kingdom of heaven is within us, that God is love, and all sorts of other stuff he, The Converted One, doesn't like to think about. What a Christ-like individual we have governing us. Conveniently forgetting this, distorting that, adhering to the "truth" as Billy Graham might tell it or Jimmy Swaggart. Any other kind of theology would interferes in our wars, see, and we like to exact an eye for an eye on any enemy, especially those darker skinned dissidents who haven't accepted Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior. Makes me all misty-eyed, it does. What could be better than Christmas during a time of Holy Wars?

Yeah, and a merry fucking Christmas to you, too. Pass the fruitcake. No, that's a, "I'll pass" on the fruitcake. Jesus.

she knew it was a pot of daffodils at the end of the rainbow. somehow, she found this comforting. sleep woke her groggy, and she gasped when she surfaced from the depths of wordless dreams. the sun had managed to invade her room while she slept, and though she had reminded herself that the sun was a necessary agent of the day, she much preferred to wake at clouds, not rays. gentler conditions stretched her into waking with a smile, not scowling at bright air.