Damien Galeone

I was on the metro, trying to translate an advertisement. The words were in a cartoon bubble coming from the mouth of a small green Martian. He was evidently trying to sell me on the idea of buying a loved one a laptop for Christmas. It was October 20^th.

It’s no secret that the Christmas powers that be milk every possible second of retail time. And for this reason malls and shops inch Christmas a little earlier each year. Pretty soon Christmas decorations will be up in June and Santa Claus will be HoHoHoing his chunky ass off in a Batman costume on Halloween.

Now this doesn’t bother me the way it seems to bother some people. I mean, some of you are really really irked by this, and I guess I can understand that. It can be rather unpleasant to feel as though you are being coerced into spending more money under the guise of holiday cheer.

My concern is not the coercion; my concern is the disruption of other Christmas traditions.

In the Czech Republic, Christmas means the presence of carp. Carp is the traditional Christmas dinner, so they are displayed in kiddy pools in the squares and on corners. They are purchased, then dispatched by the carp-master with a hammer to the skull or handed over live in a plastic bag. I don’t like carp and Christmas means a hell of a lot more carp than is ever reasonable. Does this mean that I am now going to have to see carp in public as early as October?

Christmas in the Czech Republic also means Czech fairy tales. And this means Popelka. Popelka (aka Cinderella) is synonymous with the Czech Christmas fairy tale. Expressing a negative opinion about Popelka is one notch below insulting Czech beer. My upstairs neighbors watch Popelka sixteen times a week during the holiday season, which sends me into spasms of uncontrollable rage. And if the lengthening of the holiday season means more Popelka, I am going to end up on the news.

In the U.S., Christmas means so many things. It means creamy nogs, ugly sweaters, and the socially acceptable donning of elf ears (when I wear them in March, people talk). It means Christmas carols in every shop, pub, and restaurant. It means dealing with that one insanely cheery Christmas-loving coworker. Oh, and I love these things. But does our tendency towards premature Christmasification mean that these traditions will be not only acceptable from late summer, but encouraged?

Moreover, what about the other things that come along with Christmas? There is seasonal depression, coping with family, and spending more money. We stand to lose half our population to suicide while putting the rest in debt. And then there’s the holiday weight gain. With my family’s penchant to eat complex carbohydrates and sweets, I am doomed. If Christmas is extended much earlier, I am going to die of congestive heart failure in two years. And no matter what time of year I die, it’ll be right around the holidays!

But let’s look at the bright side. The post-Christmas depression will only last two days and then it’ll be time for Christmas again.

Still, if this trend of starting the holiday season earlier continues and worsens, it’s going to throw the rest of the year out of synch. We won’t know when to be sad, when to be merry, when to go on summer holiday, and when to have a holly jolly Christmas. And pretty soon Christmas will be known as the global warming of holidays.

At least I’ll be able to wear my elf ears in March.

What other effects will this premature Christmasification have?