Muay Thai fighters try and start fights whenever possible.

The wrong way.

Can't quite get a handle on the tree.

These guys should have consulted an instructional pamphlet.

Using a tree!

As some of you may have guessed, my thoughts on Christmas are a little conflicted. It's not like I have a vendetta against it like some people think. I mean, good for them. They managed to co-opt the solstice celebration. I'm not crazy about it, but it's not like I don't put up a tree and a few wreaths.

The thing that drives me nuts is the Santa Claus thing. Namely the notion that I invented Santa Claus to take the spotlight off Jesus during his birthday. Some say his name is "Santa" because it's just "Satan" with the "N" placed in front of the "T". I feel slightly insulted by the notion that I can turn into a serpent on a whim and tempt Eve out of paradise, but that when concocting a campaign to influence every Christian child in the world for hundreds of years I would just spell my name with a few letters switched around.

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Like all people who don't consult the Bible to solve practical problems, I'm at war with Christmas. I wish people "Happy Holidays" , promote the idea of Santa Claus in order to deflect attention away from the role of the Christ-child, and accentuate the pagan elements of the celebration in favor of the Christian ones, which are in extreme danger with our country maintaining a paltry incidence of Christians at a mere 76%. And why wouldn't I? I stand to gain so much from the effort, I really can't afford not to. But we need a shot in the arm. So I'm mining the great war-mongers of the past for material. What do say, Genghis? How would you attack Christmas?

Genghis Khan: Well, first I'd find a few stores that feature religiously neutral decorations, like holly, wreaths, and maybe even some Kwanzaa stuff, because they'd clearly be part of the war effort. I'd absorb them into my army and ride to a store that has the nerve to wish people "Merry Christmas" when they check out. While riding we'd drag yule logs behind our horses to kick up extra dust and give the appearance of greater numbers. When I arrived at the store, let's say it's a Wal-Mart in Texas, I'd explain to the manager that he can either surrender, or everyone in the store can be killed. Then I'd camp out that night, instructing my soldiers to each light 3 Christmas trees apiece instead of just one, again to give the impression of greater numbers. We'd probably light a few Menorahs as well, just to show how at war with Christmas we really are. Naturally, there would be no praying.

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Christmas. Yeah, we're going there. I never said this would be a smooth ride. Christmas is of course the celebration of the day Jesus was born and placed in a manger because there was "no room at the inn". Seriously?  Who was running this inn? Messianic prophecy or not, it's a couple who had a baby 5 minutes ago, you can't make some space? Hell wouldn't even pull that shit, and we're talking about a place that dedicates an entire high-rise to gleefully forcing glass shards under the eyelids of false witnesses.

Christmas is also the beginning of Christmastide, the so-called 12 days of Christmas, made famous in the song of the same name. Allow me to take a breath before going into this one. Let's think about this. The first 4 days, the singer's "true love" - and I put that in quotations because I'm not sure I buy that designation for reasons I'll explain - gives her (Yeah, her. I've lived so long I stopped counting my age when we went from Roman to Arabic numerals, and I can tell you this: chicks don't buy guys multiple swans. Sorry boys, ain't gonna happen.) a partridge (with tree), 2 turtle doves, 3 french hens, and 4 colly birds. The song seems to suggest that these things are stacked every day, so on the first day it's a partridge in a pear tree, and on the second day it's 2 turtle doves and a second partridge in a pear tree, and so on. I'm going to assume that's not the case, and that each subsequent mentioning of a gift is a reference to the original, and not a duplicate gift. If I'm wrong, then what I took to be merely absurd is actually whatever is above absurd. Preposterous?

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We totally approve of this union if only because TODAY IS THE DAY WE SEE PIGS FLY. TODAY ALIENS EXIST. THE WORLD IS FLAT. MAGIC IS REAL. GOD IS DEAD, BUT IT DOESN'T MATTER BECAUSE SANTA IS REAL AND SO IS THE TOOTH FAIRY. EVERYTHING IS POSSIBLE NOW.  AHHHHHHHHHHH.

It's happend with Jesus on pieces of cloth and tree bark, and now it's happening with Michael Jackson on hospital baby scans. What you see here is not just a baby, but the majestic face of the King of Pop Himself, Michael Jackson. This is such a miracle, you guys. How blessed are the parents of this child? Not only does their child look like Michael Jackson, but he'll probably sound and grab his crotch just the way He did. They can only hope, we're sure.

In the name of the Father, Son, and Michael Jackson. Amen.

(via Telegraph.co.uk)