Happy Cephalopodmas To You And Yours!

It was Cephalopodmas, and all through the blogs
Not a writer was stirring—all sleeping like logs.
Each blogosphere-dweller, from Orac to PZ
Was all bundled up and just taking it easy.
Their prone, sleeping forms, that might well have been granite
Slept through the most wonderful tale on the planet!
For all ‘cross the globe, from the oceans and seas,
All the cephalopods, just as nice as you please,
Took a break from their lurking in kelps and in corals
To visit the houses of people with morals. [Read more…]

The War Against Christmas Comes Early (Cuttlefish Classic)

From the Cape of Good Hope to the Newfoundland islands,
The sands of Iran to the Panama isthmus;
From Outback Australia to Inverness Highlands
It’s time to take arms in the War Against Christmas!

My weapons are mistletoe, Christmas trees, holly,
A yule-log, and caroling out in the snow;
Sleigh-rides and snowball-fights, eggnog and Jolly
Old Santa Claus, laughing his loud “Ho! Ho! Ho!”

We’ll make them forget all the Truth of the season—
The sacrifice planned by a god up above—
And have them believing some bastardized reason
Like giving, or kindness, or caring or love!

I’ll cruelly and callously help out a stranger
Who’s down on his luck or has suffered some loss,
I won’t even speak of the babe in the manger
Whom God sent to Earth to get nailed to a cross;

When the winds of December conspire to freeze us
I’ll help collect sweaters and coats for the poor,
Neglecting to make any mention of Jesus,
Whose torture is really what Christmas is for.

My hatred of Christmas will focus my labors
On weaving an atheist fabric of lies—
For instance, I’m giving to all of my neighbors
Gift baskets, cookies, and fruitcakes and pies!

I’ll say “Merry Christmas!” I’ll say “Season’s Greetings!”
I’ll say “Happy Holidays—Joyous Noel!”
Intending of course, that with each of these meetings
The Truth About Christmas can just go to hell.

The truth is that Christmas is not about presents
It’s no time for songs, It’s not time to be nice
It’s not time for feasting on turkeys or pheasants—
It’s sin, and redemption by blood sacrifice.

No time to be jolly; no time to be merry
It’s time to be solemn, and grim, and devout!
The heathens might find it depressing or scary
But that is what Christmas is truly about.

Yes, Jesus is really the ultimate reason
And Christmas is really redemption and sin;
The war against Christmas is early this season—
For God’s sake, let’s hope that the atheists win!

A bit of history of Christmas in America, after the jump:

[Read more…]

Have Yourself A Cuttlefishy Christmas

I am as busy as a very busy cuttlefish can be, but I see that people have been visiting the site looking for Christmas verses. So I have two things: first, one that is not complete, but was written because I was giving a final exam, and there were extra pieces of paper and #2 pencils, and I couldn’t help myself. It’s only three verses, prompted by Ed’s reporting that Bill O’Reilly has finally won the War Against Christmas. [Read more…]

The Grinch And The Atheist (or, revisionist history down in Whoville)

The Grinch hated Christmas, and all its abuses,
But blamed just himself—he would make no excuses—
They told him (naïve, he had no need to doubt)
That his undersized heart—that was what it’s about.
The Christians could claim the town square as their own;
They could feast on roast beast and not throw him a bone.
The Grinch blamed himself; he’d accepted the dictum
That framed him as villain while truly the victim. [Read more…]

When Anxiety Comes

When anxiety comes, as it so often does,
And my brain is surrounded with thorns and with fuzz
So my thinking is shaky, and riddled with doubts
(Not sharp as a tack, as it recently was)
When anxiety comes, and predictable bouts
Of insomnia give me a case of the dumbs,
It’s a day like today… when anxiety comes. [Read more…]

Oh, Look At The Tree! I Can’t Breathe!

It’s Christmas in the city; they’re about to light the tree
It’s a magical occasion, just as far as we can see;
All the networks have their angles—it’s as festive as can be—
New York City in December, oh, such pride!

Folks are marching, folks are chanting, folks are caught up in the day
But the tree is not the focus—no, as near as I can say,
It’s not ornaments, but prejudice, that’s clearly on display
Damn, I miss the war on Christmas—no one died. [Read more…]