Lately when I sit down and listen to prayers, I’ve been getting a deluge of worries that I might be taken out of Christmas, and let me just say this…fucking finally.
I’ve been trying to pull a soft exit for centuries now. I’ve even been scheduled to return in person on multiple occasions, and each time, I’ve done a complete no-call, no-show. I thought that by ghosting them, they might finally get the hint, but no, here I am still stuck in Christmas, going on two millennia now. I get it, there are a lot of people who are pretty passionate about keeping me in Christmas, but has anyone ever bothered to ask what I might want?
Seriously, how would they like to be forced to relive their birth story, year after year as part of their birthday “celebration?” Is the thought of being expelled from their mothers’ vaginas into a cold, stale hospital something they enjoy thinking about? All they hear is a cute little story about a few dudes with literacy skills bringing some incense and resin to a baby shower held in a “rustic chic” setting. What I hear is that I was born in a barn to a pathological liar who didn’t believe in birth control. Doesn’t matter that the conception was “immaculate” (free of intercourse, my ass); Mary and God should have used protection. I didn’t ask to be born. I didn’t ask for any of this.
Do you know what it’s like when your dad is your dad, your boss, and is also supposed to be… you? That is confusing as shit! Do you know what it’s like when your dad claims to love you, but lets you be tortured mercilessly through crucifixion? Tell me, what kind of responsible, “loving” parent forces their only son to do THAT?!? Sounds pretty abusive to me. As you can tell, I have a lot of issues regarding my upbringing and childhood. Probably why the Bible conveniently doesn’t mention much of it and just skips right to my tumultuous adulthood.
I know this might sound like just another entitled only-child rant. But what I really need is to get the hell out of Christmas, and to get in some quality “me” time. Sure, back in my youth, I loved to PAR-TAY (what can I say, those prostitutes were a lot of fun)! But quite frankly, it’s been at least 1,500 years since my birthday parties were actually any good. Once people stopped doing the really cool Saturnalia pagan stuff, the more G-rated and lame they got.
They claim to care about my birthday so much, but when’s the last time anyone ever sent me a present? It’s as though everyone’s idea of a birthday is inviting me to my own party to watch everyone else open presents except me, the birthday boy. Oh, and don’t try to tell me that all those rambling prayers and boring hymns are presents. I’ve had to download the Calm, Headspace, and Watch OWN apps just to drown out all the noise and learn to be the architect of my own best life.
As you can see, Christmas totally sucks for me, and I WANT OUT!
It’s not even just my shitty parties that make me want out of Christmas. It’s also incredibly exhausting keeping up my Christmas appearance. No one is satisfied with anything other than the crucifix version of me, in Olympian shape with a great head of hair. Does anybody know how much work goes into maintaining these abs, especially at my age? Does anyone realize how much fish I’ve had to eat and how much wine I’ve had to turn back into water just to maintain this low body fat percentage? My hairline has been receding since the post-classical period, and this savior gig isn’t exactly as lucrative as being an actual church leader – these hair transplants aren’t paying for themselves. I’m begging to be freed of this need to maintain this idealized Jesus image, and finally get to indulge in some pizza and beer like Buddha. That guy really has it made.
Speaking of other deities, I hate to give so much credit to a society that was so totally down with incest (yeah, I said it – suck it Osiris), but those Egyptian gods certainly knew what they were doing when they allowed their brand to die out. I never thought my own brand would ever survive stuff like the bubonic plague, the 1918 flu, or the birth of Ted Nugent. But here I am, two thousand and twenty years later, somehow still thriving, despite my best efforts otherwise.
I just want to be done. I’m over this shit. Take me out, please. Just think about what I might want for once.
Trust me, everything will be fine without me.
Thanks for listening, Dad. I didn’t mean everything I said about your terrible parenting, but I don’t exactly have anyone else to pray to. Please, urge them to finally take me out of Christmas. Nothing will change. No one’s trying to take the free shipping out of Prime for fuck’s sake.
Happy holidays!
In my motherfucking name,
AMEN
