therelevantrhino

We’ve gone over my personal feelings about religion, so since this being the particular time of year it is, I thought I’d give some of you folks some insight into what Christmas is like for us non-believers.

Christmas Eve:

Roll out of bed around eleven-eleven thirtyish, bask in the darkness of your room and thank science for the technology to keep the rays of the sun out, light cigarette.

Amble downstairs, scratch aimlessly, start coffee, curse a non-existent deity for not having the foresight to set the automatic timer on your heathen coffee(/espresso) maker.

While waiting for the coffee to brew, read morning affirmation from “The God Delusion”, take a few bong rips, light another cigarette.

After coffee, crossword, and more bong rips and cigarettes-  a breakfast of partially aborted chicken fetuses (and organic feta cheese…and chanterelle mushrooms), the carved flesh of a cloven, unclean beast, and the innards of a tuber. And more coffee. Followed by a good chuckle over people’s ridiculous supernatural belief systems.

3:30pm- finish up breakfast, crack open the wine, and be happy you were able to score the last two bottles of Vina Cobos Bramare Malbec(nothing too fancy or heavy…it’s early)on a Sunday morning while the rest of your town was at church. Light another cigarette.

4:20pm- ……………………………………………..’ere…………………………………………………………………

5:15pm- Read evening affirmation from “Living without God”, maybe put on Clerks II, grab some popcorn, and relax.

7:50pm- Head out to a gathering of closely acquainted fellow humans, eat super-elitist smoked and glazed carcass of an aforementioned cloven, unclean beast with extremely liberal portions of side dishes, and an after-dinner scotch(perhaps a 15yr. old Laphroaig from the godless isles of Scotland).

9:10pm- step outside for a smoke… because while the humans who co-habitate the dwelling you’re visiting don’t believe in something as undeniably stupid as an omnipresent, significantly more cruel than compassionate, bearded old man on a fluffy white cloud, they do believe that smoking indoors is grounds for an ass-whuppin’.

After exchanging tokens of our self-loathing attachment to consumerism and obligation, we all agree that not bowing to our corporate masters and buying from local, independently owned businesses was the right decision- if for no other reason that it’s up to us as humans to take care of each other…because there is no god.

Somewhere around one-ish, you thank your hosts and depart-fed, loved, gifted, and confident that you simply enjoy their company and love them, you’ll see your hosts even when you’re not commanded to do so by Hallmark, church, or advertising agencies.

It’s a long-held belief that Christmas day is spent entirely on the couch watching football, drinking micro-brewed beer, and reflecting on all that you and your loved ones had a decent fuckin’ year in spite of the fact that George W. Bush is still prez’nint for 28 more days, or that you your significant other/partner/life partner/mistress/fuck-buddy lost their job when their company shut down due to the fuckin’ depression, their hard work, focus, education, and drive will find them a new gig much faster than prayer.

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