Now that Christmas is over (and just let me say, thank god it is!), we've entered the time of year that I like to fondly refer to as "Hogmas." Everyone's all sitting around being cheery and basking in the wealth of useless presents they've received from all the people who supposedly care about them. Call me crazy, but if I really cared about someone (hypothetically), then I wouldn't want to burden them with crap that they're never going to use and probably going to re-gift again anyway. That's just mean.
That being said, I don't actually care about anyone. In fact, I dis-care about people. I un-care them. My heart is filled with anti-caringness. And so I take this time of post-Christmas glee to bring disappointment and inconvenience to the world by means of the high holiday Hogmas.
The story of Hogmas is a novel tradition. It's not just the birth of a beloved holiday, but the birth of a legend. Many many years ago, when children still believed in all that Santa Claus bullshit, and before the story of the "Grinch" came into being, there was a villain (I regress to the term "villain" rather than "super-villain" because of the olden-days sad lack of super) who was part man and part animal. Now, this manimal had the muscled torso and limbs of a lumberjack (minus the flannel eye-sore), but the up-turned snout, twisted tusks, and darkened instincts of a boar. His eyes had a beady twinkle and his mouth wore a smirking sneer. He was (I am) the Hogman.
For years, the Hogman watched the human race exchange their holiday toys and trinkets, disgusted by the overwhelming spirit of Christmas. It was so full of love and sharing and joy. But, as he watched, the Hogman soon began to notice something: each year, the love and joy became less, and was instead being replaced by something he had long been rooting for: greed.
Of course, the human race doesn't call it that. For them, greed has a much more socially acceptable name. It's called "consumerism." Watching the humans and seeing how this consumerism was taking over their beloved holiday or joy and sharing, the Hogman felt he had an obligation. He had an obligation to magnify this greed, and, as a child burns an ant with a magnifying glass, so he would turn Christmas to ash.
The legend then goes (and trust me on this one, because I know what I'm talking about) that the Hogman planted mind control devices in the headquarters of every major business in the world, forcing the commercialization of a once spiritual holiday. Boxing Day and Boxing Week sales worldwide began to drive the human race into a feral shopping frenzy. Whatever gifts they received weren't enough, even when, year after year, the gifts became bigger and more expensive and less meaningful.
And so, present day, you can look out over the Christmas lights and ornaments, the red and white Santa hats and springs of hanging mistletoe, and you'll see the glory of Hogmas. It's in every fist-fight over the last sale item. It's in every tantrum thrown by a spoiled brat when they don't get their puppy or Barbie or race car. That is Hogmas. It's my favourite time of the year.