I've got some bad news, guys. People are trying to take our Christmas away. I don't know who or where they are, but they want to strip us of our Christmas and leave us naked on the side of the holiday road.
Thankfully, several big businesses have decided to aid me in my War On The War On Christmas by making their stores as Christmas as possible. So, a few days ago, to the dismay of my wife, who begged me to not make this an issue, I drove around to inspect their efforts. This is my report from the battlefront.
8 Family Dollar
It's a good sign when I walk into a store and suddenly get the biggest, most Christmasy erection that I've ever had.
Get ready for some tinsel, Family Dollar.
I could immediately locate where the Christmas was and how much Christmas there was to be had, since Family Dollar put it smack dab in the middle of the room. They're clearly not ashamed to love Christmas in a Christmas-hating world, and that's an admirable trait for any soldier to have.
And they definitely didn't skimp on the red. Red is the true color of Christmas, because it was the color of Santa's jacket, and because if you ever find yourself in a knife fight with a non-believer over whether or not Rudolph was a true story, there will be no trace that he ever leaked out.
Feeling satisfied by Family Dollar's efforts, I texted a picture of my Christmas erection to my wife. Strangely, she didn't reply. Oh well, on to the next store!
7 Dillard's And Belk
Are you kidding me, Dillhole and B-word? Putting trees on top of things that are unrelated to Christmas does not suddenly make it a Christmas display.
No one brought Jesus modestly discounted blush, you damn heathens.
Your lack of effort is a disgrace to every eggnog-sipping soldier of Christmas that came to the mall to be bombarded with reminders that they need to start feeling enthusiasm fast. Otherwise, their kids are going to grow up resentful and agnostic.
A sparse menagerie of trees goes really well with child tears.
Get it together. I'm so mad right now that I ate the whole gingerbread cookie that I was holding, and I didn't have anything to wash it down. My throat hasn't felt this dry since the Clarence High School 20-year reunion, where I nervously asked Donna Bart to make out with me while my wife, Sarah, was getting something out of the car. For the record, Donna said no, which is fine because I totally wasn't going to do it anyway. I'm a good husband, and I just need to feel appreciated sometimes, Belk. It's like you don't even consider that other people have feelings.
I texted my wife a picture of my disappointed, flaccid penis and drove on.