The Jones family may have been the most evil family in the entire of history. No doubt they were descended from royalty and lived to torment their neighbors and colleagues by flaunting their luxurious lifestyles. Then again, maybe they lived centuries ago and their idea of flaunting was that they had a fancy chamber pot and ate beef.  If this is indeed the case, I think we need to update the name of the family to better match the present time.

It’s Christmas time and the whole world is filled with lunatics fighting over Cabbage Patches and Tickle Me Elmos. You never know when you might enter a toy store only to find that the shelves are bare and there are seventy women pulling each other’s hair and cussing like sailors because they all desire the one remaining talking hamster that giggles and vibrates. Perhaps if they put it into perspective and thought about where that hamster will be three months from now, they wouldn’t fight so hard for it. Of course Christmas morning little Madison will fly down the stairs trying to make out the shape under the tree of the furry little waste of thirty dollars Santa got her. She’ll squeal with joy when she is sure she has found it, rip it out of the paper and parade it around the house for two weeks straight as if it attached at her waste. But let’s fast forward to next month, shall we? There’s the shot of your house, let’s go inside.We’ve made it to the entry way, and what is it that we see next to the sludge covered shoes upon our arrival? Well,  Oh fickle, frivolous one, it’s a thirty dollar pile of fuzz that looks like a hairball covered in sticky residue from holiday candy and left to die near the front door. Well done, well done indeed.

Ok, so maybe that isn’t the most upbeat Christmas attitude. However, it would be nice if people would stop to think about what they are doing and how miserable it makes those of us who are sane. Christmas shopping should be fun. It should be a chance to get out and enjoy the decorations and holiday music while you ponder what to get siblings and friends. Instead, it’s a mad dash through a crowd of insanity covered in bright red. The description could probably be closely compared to the running of the bulls.

Who knows what Christmas will morph into as time passes. We probably don’t want to know. For now though, I’m going to play my Christmas music, drink my egg nog, cuddle up under the blankets and watch the holiday movies I grew up with. That in combination with the lit tree covered in ornaments and wrapping up presents for my family and friends should be enough to drown out the pure insanity that has become the Christmas season.

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