Like a lot of you, I am basically a monster, and, as, is the case every year, this holiday season has filled me with bile. All that time spent with friends and family and red felt decorations? By the end of the year I will have barfed on all of these things. Indeed, not a Christmas passes where I don't silently hope for it to, somehow, disappear entirely, and be replaced perhaps with a half-day at work. Wouldn't that be great?
Think of the boost to the economy.
But this year, after vomiting on a Christmas display in mid-September, I decided to finally do something about it, and over the past few weeks, have been trying to steal Christmas. And no, I don't mean merely breaking into people's houses and stealing their presents and Fizz-whatsits and Who-Hash. That wouldn't steal Christmas, but merely ruin it for a few poor souls. I wanted to actually steal it. I wanted to steal the entire day.
So here's what I did.
#5. Changing the Calendar
I reasoned that as long as the date December 25th exists, people will forever associate it with Christmas, and feel joy on and around this date. Desperately needing to stop that, I knew I needed to end December 25th forever.
This is basically what's happening in my brain all the time.
My first thought was to simply break into the factory where they make all the world's calendars, find the right Publisher file, and replace December 25th with something. "Funday" or something like that, but cooler. But after a bit of research, I discovered that there wasn't just one calendar factory, but multiple ones, scattered throughout the world, and that none of them were really close to my house. I investigated a couple methods of doing this from afar ...
... but didn't have much success.
What my research did uncover though, is that I wasn't the first person to try and change the calendar. What we now consider "the" calendar is the Gregorian calendar, first created by Pope Gregory XIII in 1572, because that's apparently one of the powers God gave the Pope.
"Man, do I not want to go to Ted and Judy's thing on Friday. Let's just get rid of Friday this week."
Which at least gave me a clue for the next phase of my plan.
#4. Convincing the Pope
I knew it would take some doing to convince the highest office in Christendom to cancel Christmas, it being exactly the kind of thing they're quite big on. But working in my favor was my years of experience as a comedy writer, and the undeserved self-confidence that has given me. So, I created a Tumblr with my thoughts on why Christmas should be cancelled, slipped in a couple hilarious image macros and tweeted it at the Pope's new Twitter account. The Tumblr and tweets have been deleted now, as per the request of the relevant higher authorities (see below), so I can't share them with you now, but, in essence, I complained about all of the widely-discussed problems with Christmas: the commercialism, the familial strife and the chocolates with gross liqueurs in them.
But the Pope apparently doesn't read many of the tweets sent at him, which is perhaps a prudent move, considering all the horrible assholes that use Twitter, and, after a week passed without any shocking Christmas-cancelling news from the Vatican, I knew my opening gambit had failed. More extreme measures were necessary.
#3. Blackmailing The Pope
Blackmailing the Pope is almost, by definition, really, really hard. By necessity, the Pope has lived a fairly clean life, with most of his pre-Poping hobbies related to being an upstanding member of the Church. Interestingly, he was briefly a member of the Hitler Youth, although that's pretty old news by now, and was apparently an involuntary thing anyway.
"I also never inhaled."
The only possible way to blackmail the Pope is to trick him into doing something blackmail-worthy first, and only then send him a manila envelope with the incriminating photos and a crazily-written note concerning Christmas elimination.
I arrived at the Vatican two days later with my crazily-written thoughts, two cases of sacred wine and a goat with a taste for sin...
The end is, um, hollow.
... and after creating a clever ruse to win the Pope's trust ...
... I proceeded to get absolutely nowhere near the Pope. It turns out there's a whole big operation just to keep people like me away from him, as I was politely informed by a member of this operation while he was stepping on my neck. A highly-educated neck-stepper it turned out, when he informed me of yet another flaw in my plan: although Pope Gregory XIII introduced the Gregorian calendar, its acceptance around the world wasn't immediate, and was only really secured with the political influence of the Church during that era. And even in countries where the Catholic Church wasn't so popular ...
... the calendar was still eventually adopted because it made sense. "You," my neck-crushing tutor explained, "aren't making any sense. No government in the world is going to use a calendar you propose."
Of course. The government. My next step was obvious.