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Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

In case you missed it, here is an example of this year’s War on Christmas from our atheist friends, appearing on billboards in several southern cities:

dear santa

 

Says American Atheists, the group sponsoring the campaign, the billboards are aimed at “in-the-closet atheists who are pressured to observe religious traditions during the holidays.”

Uh, huh.  And why shouldn’t they observe said religious traditions?

“Even children know churches spew absurdity, which is why they don’t want to attend services,” American Atheists President David Silverman said in a statement. “Today’s adults have no obligation to pretend to believe the lies their parents believed. It’s OK to admit that your parents were wrong about God, and it’s definitely OK to tell your children the truth.”

Good! Goooooood! Feel the hate flowing through you!

I don’t think it’s just a product of my imagination that the atheist movement seems to be getting shriller and more punitive over the past few years.  They used to run with the line that, hey, they could be loving and ethical, too, even without all that God stuff.   Now they seem to be ramping up, not just refusing to believe, but calling anybody who does believe a liar and an idiot and downright evil.

In a way, I suppose I can understand them.  As a believer, I am sure and certain in my Faith, but if I am somehow wrong, well, what will happen?  After (hopefully) having led a decent existence in devotion to my Imaginary Friend, I will crumble back into the primordial dust completely ignorant of my error.  So what?

On the other hand, I can’t help thinking that deep within even the most strident of atheists lurks a little, tiny voice that asks what if I’m wrong and God does exist?

That must be terrifying, a tiny yet bitter foretaste of what would be in store for them.  And fear is a huge motivator for lashing out.

Eh, it’s a theory.  (As a matter of fact, many of them probably have felt this way for a long time.  It’s only with the current Progressivist blitz on the culchah that they feel they can come out and actually say so this brazenly.)

As for the billboard itself, two things strike me:

If the little girl is too old for fairy tales, um, why is she writing Santa? (Unless, of course, she’s doing so in edgy, hipster-doofus irony.)

Also, do these folks know that Santa is the “fairy tale” version of St. Nicholas, Bishop of Myra, whose Feast Day is, in fact, tomorrow?  And that not only was St. Nicholas famous for his tremendous generosity, but also a fierce defender of Orthodoxy?  If some smart-assed post-modern kid were to say something like this to the real Nicholas, they’d probably get a worse beat-down than he gave Arius.

Anyhoo, I’ve reached the point in my own development where this sort of thing fills me not so much with anger as with sadness at the pathos.

 

 

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Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

My apologies for the thin posting of late, both in number and substance.  I’ve got about half a dozen draft posts queued up, but my Muse seems to have taken a powder and nothing worth reading is coming together.  Heigh, ho.  It’ll pass.

In the meantime, I give you a meme the Eldest Gel showed me this evening that made me laugh quite a bit:

jesus bear

 

 

 

Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

And so it begins.  Every year come the day after Thanksgiving,  the local classickal station begins firing up its rotation of Christmas “holiday” musick.

They start mildly enough, slipping the odd carol or tune in just before the top or bottom of the hour nooz blurb from Nihilist Propaganda Radio, but in short order the mix becomes more and more “seasonally” oriented.  By Christmas Eve itself, the theme has taken over completely.  Of course by then, when, you know, Christmas actually starts, one is utterly sick of the stuff.

Along those lines, Ol’ Robbo likes to play a masochistic little game with himself this time of year, seeing just how long he can go on listening to endless repetitions of “Deck the Halls” and “The Holly and The Ivy” plus pure abominations like “If Bach Had Written ‘Jingle Bells'” before he starts frantically clawing through his drawer for a screwdriver with which to puncture his own eardrums.

I usually hold out until about a week before Christmas itself.  At that point, unable to stand any more “I Wonder As I Wander” and “The Dreidel Song”, I start listening exclusively to CDs until it’s all over.

Which it is, with the suddenness of the Last Trump.  Come December 26, again, the second day of the actual twelve day celebration, not a single note of “holiday” musick will you hear on the station.

Which in a way is a relief, but is infuriating because of why it’s such a relief.

Sigh.

Speaking of which, this year I am going to try more than ever to use the word “X-mas” whenever I am discussing the warped, secularized, bowdlerized, hyper-consumerist “holiday” that most people “celebrate” these days and reserve the word “Christmas” for its proper place.  I’m sure lots of folks won’t understand me but I don’t care.

 

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