Every winter about this time I find the fog clearing and sanity reasserting itself. Each year I resolve that it's never going to happen again, that I'm finally going to get my act together and abandon the follies of my youth. I think this year I'll finally be able to make a positive change because, as I lay passed out in the middle of what I can only hope was corn chowder, I had an epiphany: I realized that I was drinking to escape and what I wanted to escape was the no-fun, puritanical, hypocritical bastards that seemed to crawl out of the woodwork and ruin my holiday fun.
Now I can imagine your little hand straying toward your genital nubbin, all ready for a little stroky stroky at the thought that I'm going to lay the smack down on the bloody Christians. You know the God(TM)-fearing, 700 Club watching, George Bush voting bastards that think Our Values(TM) are being attacked by Al Queso* and the Homo Brigade. Well as the man said, “I've got some baaaaaad news for you sunshine.” Doing that would be too easy and at IRREVERENT we don't do easy unless easy is a Jessica Alba clone carrying beer. The dudes that really get under my dermis, and the ones on the down side of this particular smack, all seem to have Professional Atheist on their business card. Yeah, stroke that nubbin now big guy.
Look, I'm not saying that I'm a believer by any stretch. I know a good con when I see one, that's the whole point of this column (oh...there is a point –Ed.), and it don't get no better than religion. Anybody who truly believes that some supernatural entity needs their hard earned cash kinda deserves to be fleeced like a lamb of God. These days it seems The Almighty(TM) also needs some folks to carry out his will, as if to be omnipotent meant “all powerful up to the point of squishing mortals like grapes.” Imagine the conversation down the local place of worship: “What's that Lord? You're fresh out of fire and brimstone? You need me to set off a nuclear explosion? Well O.K. Don't forget about the virgins.” I'll say this for God's Army, at least you know where they stand. The atheists, however, eh...not so much.
Atheists' beliefs are tough to pin down because while they hate the idea that somebody might want to wish them happiness and good cheer in the name of some bearded hippy, they love to get Christmas presents. Don't believe me? Next December try giving your atheist friends a bottle of 15 year old Laphroig, or even the paperback edition of Richard Dawkins' God Delusion. Wish them a Merry Christmas and watch the pained look cross their faces right before the greedy little bastards rips their way into their prezzies. It's great fun. Given the amount of damage done to my dining room carpet every year, atheists also believe in a good party. Oh, initially they'll put up a brave front about not really being “into the whole holiday thing,” but since the alternative is another lonely, bitter night with the cats, eventually they come around. Some of them even manage to have such a good time that, after a couple snorts of my booze, they suddenly don't mind the sprig of mistletoe hanging in the hallway with impish Druidic symbolism. Of course that may have something to do with the hot blond standing naked underneath.** Unfortunately no amount of alcohol will get them to stop complaining about the Christmas songs.
Well I for one have had it. Between Thanksgiving and New Year's Eve I can listen to Jingle Bell Rock ad nauseum and I'm tired of a bunch of sour puss hypocrites killing my holiday buzz. Most of the ones I know are starting to get wise to my Evolution Question***, so even that fun little exercise is denied me. From this point forward I'll be giving a little test to every person I want to invite to my holiday shindigs. If they can't accept that Christmas, at it's core, stripped of all the “reasons for the season,”**** is really just about getting together with your fellow monkeys and helping each other make it through the long, long, winter night*****, just as Og and Gogg did while the dire wolves howled outside the cave, then they can forget being invited to the Mercer homestead. Life's too short and good Scotch is too expensive to waste time with uptight prigs. Maybe they can make friends with the dire wolves.
*A little known group of illegal immigrants whose main claim to terrorism fame is their unholy willingness to pick strawberries for pennies an hour.
**And at my parties, there's always a hot blond.
***Me: So if evolution is the real deal why does the firefly light up?
Them: Oh well that a biological function...Bioluminescence.
Me: Yeah I know how it lights up but why?
Them: Oh well they evolved that way to attract mates.
Me: Yeah O.K. So why?
Them: Oh well it's fills an ecological niche.
Me: Making your ass light up fills an evolutionary niche?
Them: Yeah, it's evolution.
Me: Well you've been sucking down a lot of bean dip and broccoli and I've got a match, let's see some evolution in action. I think you'll get further with the blond under the mistletoe if we set your ass on fire.
I'll give the atheists this: at least they give it a try. My born again acquaintances usually don't get past God's Plan is Ineffable(TM). That's probably for the best, the last born again that tried to light his fart at my Christmas party was Ted Haggard. The fireball that erupted from his loose anus damn near destroyed the house. Must've been all the meth.
****Like Jesus, Consumer Consumption(TM), and Uncle Charlie getting drunk and asking your mom to suck him off.
*****Yes, I know Australia doesn't have a long night in December. Aren't you the bright little fuck? But you know what they say, “You can take the European out of Europe, but you can't take the Europe out of a European.” And isn't it curious that Hanukkah centers around driving back the darkness? I'll leave that as a problem for the ambitious student.