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December 2001
Download the word version, perfect for printing and handing out on street corners!
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Guess what, kids? Since this issue is at least two weeks late, pushing us
into mid-December, it means that issue 12 is the official Christmas edition
of everyone's favorite hate-zine! I suppose that means that it should be
full of love and cheer and the holiday spirit and all, but nuts to that. I
hate Christmas, in the most foul, Ebenezer Grinchian possible way. It's not
because I'm anti-religion or anything. Well, I am, but that's not why I hate
Christmas. I mean, even I have to admit that as far as religious figures go,
Santa Claus is a fairly inoffensive one. Sure, he rewards good children with
Transformers and Tickle Me Elmos, which is kind of like heaven if you're
six, but the worst he does to bad kids is leave them with a stocking full of
coal, a punishment that is more confusing than mean-spirited, and is in any
event much more pleasant than the eternity of torment promise by many of the
other major religions. Also, Santa is definitely a more fun looking fellow,
coming off all jolly and rouge, in stark contrast to many of the other
images of god that float around our collective unconscious, from the
scowling, many-armed Vishnu to the fruity 70s rocker visage of Jesus to the
fearful countenance of the Easter Bunny. Sure, his fascination with putting
strange children on his lap seems vaguely pedophilic, but in today's day and
age of scantily clad 8-year-olds at Spice Girls concerts and sexually
suggestive Britney Spears videos, kids are growing up so fast it barely even
matters that Santa's probably diddling toddlers. Plus, as far as messiahs
go, he doesn't seem particularly conducive to religious wars and the like,
since nobody's going to fight to the death over a fat guy dressed like a
candy cane, who, aside from the outfit, bares a striking resemblance to most
liquor store hobos. So clearly religion is not the reason I despise
Christmas. And it's certainly not that Christmas has gotten so commercial.
Hell, I love commercials. In fact, Hostess-Frito Lay owns fifty-one percent
of me, and is therefore my chief stockholder, making PULP essentially a
billboard for Ruffles. No, what really bothers me about Christmas is those
goddamn carols. While I was in Shopper's Drugmart the other day, trying to
buy enough sedatives to sleep till March, they kept playing the same
horrible Little Drummer Boy song over and over. I don't know about you, but
Christmas carols make me want to shoot at people, so maybe playing them
incessantly in public places isn't so good of an idea. But apparently, the
risk of pumping shoppers so full of holiday cheer they start taking hostages
is outweighed by the fact that carols occasionally make customers delirious
enough to buy life-sized plastic reindeers festooned with 'festive'
Christmas lights. If you're interested, they're beside the cash, right by
the snack-food aisle. And while you're there, pick up some Ruffles.
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