I Suck at Holidays

I mean, I’d like to enjoy holidays. I’m pretty sure a lot of people actually do enjoy them, so they have an abstract sort of appeal, like tomatoes. But when I bite into a real tomato, all I get is a mouthful of wretched, vile mush.

I like Halloween. Nothing horrible happens on Halloween, and costumes and candy are fun.

It’s only been in the past 2 or 3 years that I finally figured out why people exchange gifts at Christmas (and other holidays)–establishing trading/exchange networks with people in times of plenty means you can invoke those networks in times of trouble and people will think you a trustworthy trade partner who will pay them back later–and sort-of why they give each other lingerie (it has something to do with a Pavlovian association between underwear and genitals, as a means of signaling to someone that you’d like to mate with them. Frankly, that seems needlessly complicated since people can talk.) (I still don’t understand why people wear Victoria Secret’s “Pink” clothing line.)

The main point of holidays, I think, is to cement social, religious, or cultural ties. The 4th of July and Thanksgiving unite us as Americans (unless you are not an American, in which case you can substitute the best holiday you have); Christmas is about Christians and family; Passover is about Judaism and family. They’re all supposed to be fun, happy times spent with others.


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