Christmas had it coming, 12-24-01
by Jonathan Kaplan

Of all the holidays in our nation, Christmas clearly reigns supreme. It's the central holiday in our culture. It's the main pillar of our school year and economy. It inspires caroling and endless decorations. It's a holiday so compelling that we are inspired to actually bring a tree inside our house. Yet despite its importance in Western civilization, thoughtful observers are compelled to ask: "Why is Christmas such a punk-ass bitch?"

Every year, Christmas gets itself into some fix that it can't get out of and it needs saving. Whether it's Ernest P. Worrel, Chewbacca or the scientific discipline of chemistry, every year some celebrity has to bail out Christmas's stupid ass. How can one holiday get itself into so much trouble?

Let's face it, Labor Day never needs saving. Kwanzaa clearly has its act together. And God knows, you don't want to fuck with Arbor Day.

Christmas just can't take care of itself. You would think after 2000 years it would have learned something. It could have picked up some Kung-fu or Aikido or maybe even just learned how to shoot a gun. I mean, Jesus, even Flag Day could kick its ass.

But the vulnerability of Christmas goes beyond its inability to defend itself. After all, President's Day is pretty weak — but every year it seems to do fine. The real weakness of Christmas is that it's the only holiday that can actually be stolen.

If you gathered up all the mall displays, Santa hats, video games and candy canes and locked them away there would be no Christmas. Without eggnog, green and red sweaters and animatronic reindeer, Christmas simply wouldn't happen.

"But wait," you say, "didn't you learn the lesson of the Grinch? Even without the gifts and goodies there would still be a Christmas."

You fools — you fell for it too. The whole point of Dr. Seuss's tale was that the Grinch was a sucker. Those conniving Whos were just bluffing. Had the Grinch stuck to his guns, Whoville would've rapidly collapsed into a blubbering mound of self-pity and despair. But their little ploy was carefully designed to play on the sentimental weaknesses of that big green chump, and it worked — in spades.

You may call me a heathen. You may call me a cynic. All I know is that Christmas is no Janmashtami.

E-mail Jonathan Kaplan at jkaplan at math dot harvard dot edu.