I don’t wanna be like your dad, texting you in October to complain that he’d just seen Christmas stuff on sale at Target (“October!!”), but it feels like Christmas is way more intensely Christmas-y this year.
Take Christmas movies for example. There are almost 100 of them being released this Christmas. In Netflix’s case, they have been doubling the amount of holiday content they put out with each year that passes. The number of Hallmark Christmas movies is up 20 percent since 2017.
Every formerly famous person on earth has been tracked down and forced to star in something Christmassy this holiday season. There’s a film where Rachel Leigh Cook finds love at Christmastime with an inn-owner. And one where Vanessa Hudgens finds love at Christmastime with a time traveling knight. And separate ones where Tia and Tamera find love at Christmastime with a contractor and a writer respectively. Outside of movies, everything has become Christmas. From mulled spice-flavored bleach to Christmas pop-ups to algorithm-generated shirts that say things like, "Be nice to the payroll specialist, Santa is watching."
Not that I’m complaining. I love Christmas! I put up the first of my two Christmas trees on November 14, and it’s been weeks since I’ve watched anything that didn’t involve a Z-lister falling in love while surrounded by fake snow. I long for the inevitable day when Christmas has infected the entire year, and we’re in some sort of reverse-Christmas situation where our big annual celebration is in June and involves taking down our tinsel and trees for a couple of weeks.
Not in some terrifying, ISIS-ish enforced religion kind of way. I don’t think we should like, kill anyone who doesn’t observe Christmas. But I would very much like for my own life to be as festive as possible! Make it so every song I hear has jingling bells and a children’s choir. Let me eat a diet that consists of nothing but mashed potatoes and festive lattes. And when that diet causes me to die of scurvy at the age of 40, fill my veins with gingerbread-flavored embalming fluid and lower me into the ground in a candy cane-colored coffin. Play "All I Want For Christmas Is You (Extra Festive Version)" at my wake, and observe the anniversary of my death every July by placing a wreath of red poinsettias on my headstone.
Anyway. Here are some Christmas-y things I’ve seen recently:
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