The War on Christmas: Mutually Assured Embarrassment
The truth is, anytime someone starts talking to you about how Christians are persecuted in the United States, you are — right then and right there — talking to a retard. There’s just no other way of saying it. And the War on Christmas is an idea akin to a bullshit sandwich, once you’ve deleted all the “sandwich-like” characteristics, anyway. The word “holiday” is derived from “holy day”, Linus Van Pelt is always going to deliver his reading of Luke on national television year after year, and WASH-FM is going to be playing their drive-time five-song manger birth blocks every December until the Sun finally dies.
Even the people who appear to sincerely fighting the so-called War on Christmas are doing so with a healthy dose of jackassery. Take Reverend Rob Schenck. He’s assembled a nativity scene in the front yard of his office, which is across the street from our crumbling Supreme Court. He’s done so not out of reasons of faith, but out of cynical political chicanery: if the city makes him take it down, he can scream bloody murder over the War on Christmas. If the city doesn’t make him take it down, he can scream bloody murder over courthouses disallowing displays of the Ten Commandments.
Not exactly the sincerest pumpkin patch, in other words.
Face it, the War on Christmas is just like all our other wars — the people who want to see them waged would do everything in their power to avoid fighting in one. Fight in a war? Isn’t that what poor people are for?
If people really want to have an actual War on Christmas, let’s dispense with the nativity stunts — let’s get an arena filled with actual lions up and running and get down to it. But be careful what you wish for: if the President was to learn of a mysterious trio of swarthy gentlemen smuggling goods to a newly born child who’s destined to grow up to be the leader of a Middle East insurgency, he’d have Colin Powell up at the United Nations portentiously waving around a vial of frankincense. They bomb mangers, don’t they?
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