|But Krampus I rather like.|
By the way, in informal British English “poxy” means you do not like something, or do not think it is big or important. Last week I was having a blast on social media, which for me is variably poxy.
This probably will be an unpopular viewpoint, but I believe the vast majority of Christmas music is offensive. As such, I support a ban on offensive Christmas music. We must act with haste, because it will be Labor Day again before we know it.
Not everyone got the point, and that’s okay. I may be a tremendous Grinch, and resent being compelled to listen to the music of others because it invariably interferes with my own internal soundtrack, but there remains a capacity to enjoy certain elements of Christmas within dual contexts of brevity and sanity. Christmas deluges on Halloween show signs of neither.
Two weeks? That’s about right. I was hoping Trump might decree it.
Why do we endlessly re-enact this ridiculous Victorian fantasy for Christmas? by Suzanne Moore (The Guardian)
Every poxy advert on television features nuclear families and hilarity about socks. I don’t live like this. I never have – so who are we trying to fool? Ourselves?
Loneliness is an epidemic. It makes us ill, physically and mentally. It makes us age prematurely. It causes huge harm to the mental health of young people who often feel lonely at a time when they should be making the best of everything. And then there is Christmas, which is surely the biggest “trigger” for anyone whose life is not bloody well perfect. And, yes, I do take it personally: every poxy advert features nuclear families and hilarity about socks or something. I don’t live like this. I never have. Most of my friends don’t live like this (thank God). There are divided loyalties, exes, divorces, estranged relatives. There are the people who are bereaved. There are rows and disappointments because no one who is not some kind of fembot can live up to all these expectations.