Take a whiff around us. Materialism is in the air, folks! This is the one time of year to bleed loved ones dry of overpriced gifts that we neither need or want. And that’s why I celebrate Hanukkah, Winter Solstice, Christmas, and Boxing Day– to maximize my gift intake.

Recently, I realized that there was another holiday I could use to emotionally blackmail my acquaintances: Kwanzaa. Don’t let the jazzy name and multiple vowels fool you. This holiday is anything but fun.

Apparently, Kwanzaa focuses on the “community” and “charitable” aspects of the holidays. But I want gifts, dammit ! The only way I survive the holidays is the promise of more stuff. And if I’m going to endure the week with my family, there better be stocking stuffers on deck.

Spare me the uplifting symbolism like:

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All this yo yo gabba gabba about “unity” and “cooperative economics” and “finding the true meaning of the holiday season” is mad wack. Creatively take yourself to Bloomingdale’s and buy me a Givenchy purse.

I learned everything I need to know about this 50 year old holiday from 23 minutes of the Proud Family. They’re smiling, but that’s just because they have to. They’re cartoons– they don’t have emotions, dummy. But, look deep into the soulless specks I call eyes and realize that there is a war going on.

The war on Kwanzaa begins with Kwanzaa itself.

It sucks! The only presents I get are handmade. We’re in the new millenia, we shouldn’t be using our hands unless it’s to put more food in our mouths. (Even then, it’s better to outsource.)

There is nothing on Earth my family could make for me that I can’t make myself. I don’t come from a family of craftsmen. Why would I want something from the heart, made with love, when I can get something handcrafted from China by imprisoned orphans? That’s the American way. I support the manufacturing industry and not the Fumudoh family’s Michael Craft store adventure.

So join me as I wage this war against Kwanzaa. If we’re to survive the holiday season, let us bask in the warmth of materialism.

 

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