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He sat back in his uncomfortable old love seat and began quietly laughing to himself.

He loved the holiday season, but loathed the feeling that lately this time of year had become little more than a commercialized and sponsored distraction- designed to take people's minds off of the real issues that surrounded them.

A long and dressed up dining room table, bathed in the niceties that you save up within yourself for times like these.

A feast of bird and bullshit.

"Jesus." He thought, "I'm beginning to sound like Scrooge and The Grinch adopted a son and dropped him into a 21st century post- socialite suburban Hell."

That wasnt his intention, to seem as though he felt that way. He really did enjoy the season.

It's hard not to turn cynical though- after all, he had been praying for weeks, writing letters to the North Pole, and baking cookies to leave out with a glass of cold milk.

No matter how hard he tried though he just couldnt seem to nail that magic formula that all kids seem to have down.

No matter what he did- Santa Christ never showed up with the imagination that he had so badly hoped for.

Oh well, better luck next year.

Joy to the World.