Anywhere anyone is selling anything is packed with people who want to buy something. People like me, who ordered online, had it shipped at the last moment, and now are frantically realizing not even Fed-ex is going to throw us a package over the fence, are freaking out. Well, I’m not freaking out because I went out for some food and just came back home instead. I’ll be damned if I’m going into a building with that many people in it unless there’s a football game going on, or at least some beer. A homeless man set up a booth on an overturned shopping cart and put out a sign that read, “Half off” and it’s standing room only under that cart. Plumbing supply outlets now have people wandering around looking for that perfect gift. I swear I passed a junkyard that had some people browsing.
You could sell radioactive altars suitable for Satan Worship and you’d get a hundred people walk in and, one, see if it was cheaper on Amazon and two, ask you if you gift wrapped.
If you sold gift cards where the money went to driving the whales into extinction and hauling the dead carcasses to Elementary School as playground equipment you would sell out before anyone really asked you if this included porpoises, too.
If you put up a nativity scene in the shower room of a maximum security prison for the sexually disturbed, the criminally insane, and the sexually hyper, people would stop and take pictures of it to put on Christmas cards.
I swear to dog this year seems to be the worst ever.
The one local store we have has cars parked directly in front of the store where there are no parking spaces. People are so driven, so bent on shopping, all other considerations are now gone. The time it would take to walk across a parking lot has become a hindrance to survival. I cannot imagine what it looks like inside that building right now. Christmas is still two days away so no one has to start cooking right now but just the act of buying food has become a quest. It’s a mission. It’s a pilgrimage. For some people getting everything done right damn now has become an issue so personal it’s like they’re having sex with their credit cards. They’re putting more effort into buying stuff than I would getting Angelina Jolie to undress in front of me. After a while, after some point, isn’t there a time when you just have to admit it isn’t really worth it? I’m talking about shopping still, try to focus.
There were people trampled to death on Black Friday. A woman piked a crowd of shoppers that same day. Bodies were left pushed to the side so people could spend money on gifts. People were robbed at gunpoint. People died in car crashes. People put money on credit cards they know damn well they will not be able to repay. All in the name of getting something to put under the tree some people will break their personal budgets and their families will suffer for it. I can only wonder how many dogs are dumped out or taken to the pound after Christmas, living sacrifices for that perfect gift.
You have to wonder how much money is spent on nothing at all. All that pretty gift wrapping paper, and the packaging it came with, well, it’s all headed for the landfill. All the boxes all that stuff came in, yes, it too is headed for the landfill. The dead Christmas trees have to be disposed of and you see many alongside the city streets with tinsel still covering their now dead branches. Miles and miles of packing tape, tons of broken ornaments, and that cheap plastic throw away junk Wal-Mart sells as yard decorations are all headed into the earth where it will not decompose but it might wind up in your drinking water one day.
In two days’ time I will once again get into my truck and drive two hours to my father’s house where my sister and I will spend part of a morning and an afternoon. We’ll leave and I’ll drive two hours back home, and Christmas will be over for another eleven months or so. Hopefully, I wouldn’t get killed on the way home, and hopefully, everyone there last year and this year will be there next year. But I also hope that one day the madness will end and Christmas will one day mean something more than a nation’s moth-like attraction to conspicuous spending.