The True Meaning of Holidays
Everyone thinks that Easter is the celebration of the miraculous resurrection of the son of God, coming back to gloat about how he's so awesome because he took some nails to the extremities and a spear to the xyphoid process for all of humanity. This was bad, as it set the precedent for years to come, as many take part in the donation of one dollar to something vague like "the lupus fund" before informing the entire office of their selfless deed, while simultaneously bilking the company out of hundreds of dollars for frivolous dinners at Red Lobster.
Some of us can see past the bullshit and recognize Easter for what it is--the celebration of a zombie who chose not to feed on brains, before banishing himself back to hell. This is easily recognized by the contemporary acts of searching our couch cushions for painted eggs placed by some anthropomorphic and furtive little rabbit. The analogy is that the rabbit is Satan, the eggs are brains, and our search for them shows that humans are indeed flawed creatures, unlike Jesus, who said "fuck that noise" and vamanosed back to his home state of New Jersey (little known fact).
Here are some other time-honored holidays shown for what they truly are.
Christmas. A mordibly obese pedophiliac peeper leaves toys for "good" kids, and lumps of coal for those deemed "problematic" (see: Problem Child). Accompanied by his loyal army of dimunitive "elves," Santa Claus delivers more goods than the Somalian pirates can even hope to ensnare. Obviously, this is a representation of our love for our capitalist and corporately-run culture. Santa Claus is much like a CEO, highly domineering, and able to enjoy the type of hedonistic voyeurism once embraced by the Romans that frequented the infamous bath houses. The elves are merely the Chinese, and the reindeer are the Mexicans (dirty, brown animals). I'm sure one day society will celebrate a similar holiday to Christmas, however, the myth will evolve to show that the elves are secretly in cahoots with the Russians, and will attempt to overthrow good old Saint Nick. Luckily for him, he's friends with...
St. Patrick. If there's anyone you want to have on your side, it's a drunk Irishman. Being part-Irish myself, I can attest that they indeed know how to wallop a motherfucker or twelve. St. Patrick fighting off elves would be similar to Sloth from the overrated Goonies battling multitudes of third graders. My eyes tear up with joy just imagining that scenario. But I digress, St. Patrick's day is important because deep inside of every human being is a self-serving drug addict. Luckily for the planet, alcohol is legal in most societies, so why not celebrate the one characteristic that we all share and know in our hearts drives our pointlessly drawn out lives. While we celebrate the similarity, we must also celebrate the vast differences. That's why in this country we all join hands and take part in...
The 4th of July. The one day where psychotic, gun-toting rightwing militants can grab onto the limp-wristed hands of smelly, touchy-feely liberals and unite against a common enemy: everyone else. The United States was founded on killing the french and indigenous peoples of this great land while the Spanish simultaneously took on the pagans in the South. It's the one day where we, while sitting sedentarily on the couch, remember that it didn't used to be this way. Making breakfast didn't involve throwing a frozen meal into the microwave while jerking off violently to ensure climax before dining. You killed the pig, you pulled the eggs out of the chicken's ass, and then you slaughtered some Injuns (because they made the best spatulas at the time) before slamming back some cider and plowing your ridiculously underage and subserviant wife. At least now we have fireworks. Speaking of fireworks, sometimes we need a holiday to ensure that we make some fireworks of our own. That day is commonly called...
Valentine's Day. The one day of the year when married men can be almost 50% sure that their significant other will participate in consensual sex as long as they buy them some multi-colored (but ultimately useless) plants and a cotton representation of an otherwise vicious and dominating forest animal who is no stranger to spilling the blood of the other animals typically found in pre-1990s Disney films. The United States needs this day to keep going. Without the sporadic spilling of knuckle children onto their wives' milk-makers, the men in this country would soon die out from overeating and extreme sports.
As you can see, each holiday is an important pillar of our mediocre society. Without these high-quality days to skip work, life as we know it would crumble around us, manifesting the worst (yet most interesting) parts of the bible (or, "The Make-Believe Book for Bored Suckers"). We need these special days as an excuse to sleep in, get tanked, bang our significant others (regardless of how fat they may have become), and lie to ourselves through our teeth that a country with more than 50% of its inhabitants believing in the magical acts of some hippie-zombie son of a Jewish-looking space god is actually a decent place to spend our depressingly short amount of breathing time before quietly rejoining the carbon cycle and turning into fossil fuels to be warred over for future generations.
-Bizob
Some of us can see past the bullshit and recognize Easter for what it is--the celebration of a zombie who chose not to feed on brains, before banishing himself back to hell. This is easily recognized by the contemporary acts of searching our couch cushions for painted eggs placed by some anthropomorphic and furtive little rabbit. The analogy is that the rabbit is Satan, the eggs are brains, and our search for them shows that humans are indeed flawed creatures, unlike Jesus, who said "fuck that noise" and vamanosed back to his home state of New Jersey (little known fact).
Here are some other time-honored holidays shown for what they truly are.
Christmas. A mordibly obese pedophiliac peeper leaves toys for "good" kids, and lumps of coal for those deemed "problematic" (see: Problem Child). Accompanied by his loyal army of dimunitive "elves," Santa Claus delivers more goods than the Somalian pirates can even hope to ensnare. Obviously, this is a representation of our love for our capitalist and corporately-run culture. Santa Claus is much like a CEO, highly domineering, and able to enjoy the type of hedonistic voyeurism once embraced by the Romans that frequented the infamous bath houses. The elves are merely the Chinese, and the reindeer are the Mexicans (dirty, brown animals). I'm sure one day society will celebrate a similar holiday to Christmas, however, the myth will evolve to show that the elves are secretly in cahoots with the Russians, and will attempt to overthrow good old Saint Nick. Luckily for him, he's friends with...
St. Patrick. If there's anyone you want to have on your side, it's a drunk Irishman. Being part-Irish myself, I can attest that they indeed know how to wallop a motherfucker or twelve. St. Patrick fighting off elves would be similar to Sloth from the overrated Goonies battling multitudes of third graders. My eyes tear up with joy just imagining that scenario. But I digress, St. Patrick's day is important because deep inside of every human being is a self-serving drug addict. Luckily for the planet, alcohol is legal in most societies, so why not celebrate the one characteristic that we all share and know in our hearts drives our pointlessly drawn out lives. While we celebrate the similarity, we must also celebrate the vast differences. That's why in this country we all join hands and take part in...
The 4th of July. The one day where psychotic, gun-toting rightwing militants can grab onto the limp-wristed hands of smelly, touchy-feely liberals and unite against a common enemy: everyone else. The United States was founded on killing the french and indigenous peoples of this great land while the Spanish simultaneously took on the pagans in the South. It's the one day where we, while sitting sedentarily on the couch, remember that it didn't used to be this way. Making breakfast didn't involve throwing a frozen meal into the microwave while jerking off violently to ensure climax before dining. You killed the pig, you pulled the eggs out of the chicken's ass, and then you slaughtered some Injuns (because they made the best spatulas at the time) before slamming back some cider and plowing your ridiculously underage and subserviant wife. At least now we have fireworks. Speaking of fireworks, sometimes we need a holiday to ensure that we make some fireworks of our own. That day is commonly called...
Valentine's Day. The one day of the year when married men can be almost 50% sure that their significant other will participate in consensual sex as long as they buy them some multi-colored (but ultimately useless) plants and a cotton representation of an otherwise vicious and dominating forest animal who is no stranger to spilling the blood of the other animals typically found in pre-1990s Disney films. The United States needs this day to keep going. Without the sporadic spilling of knuckle children onto their wives' milk-makers, the men in this country would soon die out from overeating and extreme sports.
As you can see, each holiday is an important pillar of our mediocre society. Without these high-quality days to skip work, life as we know it would crumble around us, manifesting the worst (yet most interesting) parts of the bible (or, "The Make-Believe Book for Bored Suckers"). We need these special days as an excuse to sleep in, get tanked, bang our significant others (regardless of how fat they may have become), and lie to ourselves through our teeth that a country with more than 50% of its inhabitants believing in the magical acts of some hippie-zombie son of a Jewish-looking space god is actually a decent place to spend our depressingly short amount of breathing time before quietly rejoining the carbon cycle and turning into fossil fuels to be warred over for future generations.
-Bizob
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