The Great Cat told me to destroy Christmas

By Amanda Marcotte

I'll admit it. I'm behind the plot to destroy Christmas. I ran around
the country telling people to start saying "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas". I figure after a couple of years of the words
"Happy Holidays" being used by clerks and store signs, people will
completely forget what Christmas even was and December 25th will just
be another day in the midst of the present-buying frenzy people will
refer to as the "holiday season".

I do this with a heavy heart, but do it I must because my god the
Disco Ball, working through the prankster god the Great Cat, who
created the universe by throwing it up in a hairball, has instructed
me to do so. It's a shame it's come to this, but Christmas has to go.
We Discoballmouseatarians have always been fans of Christmas, since we like presents, eggnog, and sitting around hoping that no one gets into fights where they rehash sibling rivalries of their childhoods, but unfortunately Christmas has changed and is no longer the innocent
holiday it used to be.

The Christmas music thing has been a major problem for awhile. As we
all know, the Disco Ball thinks shaking your groove thang and rocking
out and all other forms of music enjoyment are the highest pleasures
known to man. Christmas music presents a threat to all this. The same
15 syrupy Christmas songs covered endlessly and usually badly by a
variety of artists in every store, restaurant and other public space
you go to is enough to make you want to remove those 15 songs from
your head via the double barrel shotgun method. But this alone was not the reason the Great Cat instructed me to destroy Christmas.

No, what really pissed off the Great Cat is that the words "Merry
Christmas" were being used as a weapon and it was beginning to cause a disturbance in the light from the Disco Ball. Seems that a few power hungry right-wingers got together and decided to spread paranoid conspiracy theories that Christmas was under attack by secular humanists. It didn't take long for hoardes of sheeplike wingnuts to start running around telling people "Merry Christmas" with the same attitude as if they were teenagers testing their parents' limits by telling them to fuck off. And then they'd run around on the Internet bragging about it, presumably because most of their victims didn't react with the expected outrage at being told to enjoy their Christmas.

But the reaction of the victims is not what upsets the Disco Ball's
light field. It's the mere act of mouthing the words "Merry Christmas" while actually meaning, "Fuck you, I'm better than you," that offends the Disco Ball. As such, the Great Cat has determined that the people cannot have Christmas anymore if they can't be merry about it. (Yes, the Great Cat's sense of irony is roughly like a 2x4 to the head, but what are you going to do?) So because the wingnuts were paranoid about losing Christmas, lose Christmas they will.

How am I single-handedly destroying Christmas? Well, the Mouse Prophet has her ways. Let's just say my plan involves a fax machine and a shitload of ABBA covers. Don't doubt that these humble tools will get the job done. It's the Great Cat's version of fishes and loaves, if you will.*

*Apparently, I have more work to do. Darleen misled me about how fast
the progress on the death of Christmas is going. Might have to add a
cell phone and some Bee Gees covers to the effort. I almost feel bad
for her, since she doesn't get that "oppressors" doesn't automatically mean white people, no matter what she fantasizes. And for some reason, she still hasn't figured out that calling me "Mandy" doesn't make her funny any more than me calling her a "pinhead" means the Ramones song won't rock any longer.

Drugs...
rock 'n' roll...
bad-ass vegas whores...
late-night booty calls...
shiny disco balls...