I took time off my very busy schedule; of sleeping, eating and binge watching of all the seasons of ‘house of cards’ to write this post (yes! I LOOOVEEEE robin wright). You see, for a while now; I haven’t functioned properly because I’ve been itching to discuss this matter. I haven’t been able to select good football matches I can bet on nor have I been able to consume my normal quantity of alcohol without stopping midway, hissing and shaking my head. The source of my discomfort? Christ -fucking-mas! Yes, I said it (you can come and beat me if you have the strength). I am a part of the one-man movement called the ‘Anti-Christmas Movement’.
Chill. Before you scroll past this post, thinking I’m just another raving atheist; I’m a Christian. boom!  And yeah, I have dutifully celebrated Christmas as long as I can manage to remember. My problem with Christmas doesn’t stem from the fact that our Lord and personal saviour was born in that particular month, rather it stems from our selfish but beautiful commercialization of the joyful season.
It is that time of the year when our long lost brothers (whom have sold most of their vital organs in Malaysia and Indonesia) come back from overseas to shove it down the throats of we ‘hardworking lay-about’ -that they have made it; and that we have been dithering, fooling ourselves and believing in the mirage called the ‘Nigerian dream’. It is that time of the year when our God-given governors give our hapless civil servants their ‘yuletide bonuses’ forgetting they have owed them half of their annual salary, Smh! That beautiful time of the year when fathers are pressured into making expenses they will rue once the new year comes in. I know somewhere now, a wife will be telling a husband; ‘Papa Emeka, make you do comot shame for my eye o! Our own no worse pass o!…at all, at all we go buy this children new cloths o!’. Oh poor husbands! That beautiful time of the year when there’s an astronomical but disgustingly inexplicable rise in the prize of every commodity you can think of. Even runs girls! ‘Oga na season cause am.’ Yep. That’s the likely reply you’ll get. That time of the year when the bet9ja addicts like me increase their stake in bet in order to see to if maybe, ‘our luck will shine’. That time of the year when the spike in crime is as a result of the pressure the society places on itself to impress without improving. That time of the year when the eating and drinking we indulge in, outweighs the nascent charity we dabble into just to satisfy our screaming conscience. Finally, that time of the year that we poor people see exotic cars that make us wonder if we came to this earth to enjoy or rather we escorted some people to it.
I ask myself if the beautiful season of the birth of our Lord is worth these attendant pressure the society created on it’s own; that illusion of success we force upon our gullible neighbors; but then what do I know?
Lemme come and be going jare… I never even buy Christmas clothes. Imagine!

I lost hope in humanity a long time ago. Now sarcasm is my only defense.

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