Here Comes Christmoween

Finally, a holiday for those of us on the 'Naughty' list.

If you're like me, the month of December is bar none the most agonizing four weeks of slog in the entire year. Everywhere you go you get bombarded with insipid carols, tone-deaf pop music, wishy-washy psuedo-religious spectacle and pomp. Simultaneously, in every paper, news broadcast, church, public gathering and random streetcorner you hear about how no one is honoring the 'True Spirit of Christmas'.

Whatever the hell that is.

I say it's high time there's a break in this month long madness for those of us who still retain enough of a grasp on reality to realize that 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer' wasn't a good song the FIRST time you heard it, let alone the ten-thousandth; to understand that chopping down and drying out an already combustible pine tree then placing it in the center of your home decked in strings of cheap lighting made in China might NOT be the brightest idea in the world; that cramming the entire family in a car to drive cross-country to visit relatives you despise and eat food that isn't fit for the family dog because it's been prepared by white people without any remaining taste buds is SUB-moronic; people, in short, who haven't swallowed the Jonestown eggnog.

Thus I am proud to unveil Christmoween, for those people whose neurons are still firing despite the barrage of Salvation Army bell-ringing and the stench of an evergreen holocaust rising over the land.

The Legend of Christmoween
Many years ago, the forces of huggy-feely, church-going consumerism conspired to kill the original Santa Claus. Giving toys to poor kids wasn't nearly as profitable an image as that of the Coca-Cola swilling, cookie-eating fat man, after all, and charity cut into the bottom line for everyone (everyone that really mattered, anyway).

Fortunately, where there's a will, there's a way, and when life gives you a corpse, you can always raise it from the dead. Thus, through foul black magic, human sacrifice, and the immolation of thousands of copies of The Night Before Christmas on a fire stoked with Bill O'Reilly's latest fishwrapper, Zombie Santa was born. Well, brought back to life. It's more or less the same thing.

Operating out of a secret underground necropolis with a small army of likewise disinterred elves (who didn't get behind the new regime fast enough and found themselves in the cellars of the North Polar Ministry of Love), Zombie Santa ventures out on Christmoween to bring equal amounts of terror and joy to a world that's forgotten the dark times of the year, the meaning of a long cold winter, and the joy of devouring huge amounts of candy you got at ridiculous discounts the first week of November.

All hail Christmoween!