I like Christmas as much as the next person. Gingerbread houses are adorable. “Deck the Halls” is a good song. Those light-up Santa hats looks ridiculous, but if you want to wear one then I fully support you doing so.

Unless it’s November 1st.

If I walk into a grocery store on November 1st and I have to listen to Jingle Bell Rock at full volume, I’m going to have an aneurysm.

There is a time and place for peppermint-flavored everything, Michael Bublé holiday albums, and radio ads featuring the words “Ho ho ho.” That time and place begins in December, at the earliest. If I had my way, the Christmas spirit would exist for the week leading up to the 25th — enough time to binge-watch cheesy holiday movies, chug some eggnog, and feel jolly. After two straight months of Christmas-themed stuff, I don’t feel jolly at all, I just feel ready to get that shit over with.

The spirit of Christmas has already been watered down enough by the ever-powerful spirit of capitalism. The last thing Christmas needs is excessive saturation. Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You” sounds great until it’s your twelve-hundredth time hearing it. There are only so many candy canes one human can eat. Let’s not overdo it.

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