By Joel Murphy

O Holiday Tree! O Holiday Tree!
Thy leaves are so unchanging.

It just doesn’t have the same ring to it. But, given the way things are going, it very well could be how the song goes a few years from now. It seems more and more government agencies are referring to the large, decorated trees on their lawns as “Holiday Trees,” afraid of upsetting the more politically correct among us by using the dreaded “C” word (no, not that “C” word – I mean Christmas). The tree displayed on the West Lawn of the U.S. Capitol, which was formerly known as the “Capitol Christmas Tree” was re-branded a “Holiday Tree” in the late 1990s.

As our society gets more and more uptight, I guess our government is really starting to worry about upsetting people during the “holiday season,” which I guess is easier for them to focus on than the war in Iraq or the way oil companies are screwing us over. By carefully avoiding the word “Christmas,” our government is trying to appease the atheists out there. Because after all, Christmas is a really big religious holiday. It’s like the Super Bowl of Christianity.

Or is it? This year some of our country’s mega-churches are shutting down on Christmas Sunday. In the past when Christmas has fallen on a Sunday, attendance at these large churches has been down considerably. So the mega-churches have decided to just close up shop on Christmas, which they are viewing as a “family day.” Naturally, some people are not very pleased about this.

“This is a consumer mentality at work: ‘Let’s not impose the church on people. Let’s not make church in any way inconvenient,’” quipped professor David Wells, who teaches history and systematic theology at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary, a leading evangelical school in Massachusetts. “I think what this does is feed into the individualism that is found throughout American culture, where everyone does their own thing.”

Basically, we’ve become a consumer culture and we now value material possession over spiritual growth (pretty much everything Chuck Palahniuk was trying to warn us about in Fight Club). We, as a nation, are our fucking khakis.

Which is why I think our country needs to get back to basics. We need to reevaluate our priorities and look into the past to remember what Dec. 25 is really all about – the feast of the Son of Isis.

Now, I’m guessing I’ve lost a few of you at this point, but try to stick with me. I’m warning you, this might be upsetting in a Da Vinci Code kind of way, but it needs to be said – Jesus Christ probably wasn’t born on Dec. 25. You see, it gets pretty cold in Judea in the winter, so it’s pretty unlikely that shepherds would still be “keeping watch over their flocks at night” during this time of year.

In fact, there are no references in the Bible to the actual day of Jesus’ birth. It was in the year 350 that Pope Julius I decided people should start celebrating Christ’s birth on Dec. 25. Since pagan Romans were the majority at the time, the pope was looking for a way to convert them to Christianity without taking away their beloved winter feast (he did the same thing with Easter).

Most of our Christmas traditions come from these pagan rituals. Not just Babylon’s Son of Isis feast that I alluded to earlier, but also the Roman’s winter solstice known as “Saturnalia” and the northern European pagans’ “Yule” celebration.

Caroling comes from the ancient Romans, who had a group known as the Mummers. The Mummers would put on costumes, then sing and dance throughout their neighborhood.

For their Yule celebrations, the pagans in northern Europe would burn large “Yule logs” in honor of their Sun god.

And the big one – Christmas trees – were actually a part of all of the northern European winter solstices. Pagans would often bring live evergreen trees home during the harsh winters to remind them that their crops would grow again. The Druids (not the guys who bring out the Undertaker on Smackdown!) would gather around huge trees and worship them as part of their sacred ceremonies. In those days, Evergreen boughs represented fertility and were often given as presents at weddings.

The first record of Christians using a Christmas tree was in Germany in 1521. Ironically enough, a Lutheran minister at the time saw this as blasphemy and said, “Better that they should look to the true tree of life, Christ.”

I guess what I’m trying to say to our government and all of you PC nuts out there is – lighten up. I think we can call the large Evergreen on the Capitol a “Christmas Tree.” Christians can be happy because the word Christmas is still part of our vocabulary, and atheists can secretly smile because all of these traditions come from pagans. Everyone’s a winner.

Whether you are celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ, giving props to your Sun god or just in it to get a new iPod – Christmas is a beautiful holiday. I think Bill Murray said it best in the classic Scrooged, “It’s the time of the year when we all act a little nicer, we smile a little easier, we … cheer a little more. For a couple of hours out of the whole year, we are the people that we always hoped we would be. It’s a miracle.”

I think we should just all openly embrace Christmas. Look, Dec. 25 can mean whatever you want it to mean. If you are Jewish, you can even go the Seth Cohen “Christmukkah” route – but let’s all just enjoy the holiday season. Just think back to when you were a kid, before political correctness and all of the nonsense we have going on now, when all you wanted to do was get downstairs and see what Santa brought for you (or for Jewish kids, think of how fun spinning a dradle for eight days was).

So, I don’t wish any of you “Happy Holidays.” It’s “Merry Christmas” or nothing. Deal with it.

Random thought of the week:
Andy Serkis has gone from playing Gollum in the Lord of the Rings trilogy to playing King Kong in Peter Jackson’s latest blockbuster. You know, if Serkis isn’t careful, he’s going to end up typecasting himself … as awesome.

Joel Murphy is the creator of HoboTrashcan, which is probably why he has his own column. He also has some really hot friends. You can contact him at: murphyslaw@hobotrashcan.com

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• Murphy’s Law – The true meaning of Christmas
• Murphy’s Law – Coping with Christmas
• Hobo Radio 70 – We wish you a Merry Christmas
• Overrated – More Christmas songs
• Outside of the In-Crowd – Coming down from the Christmas crack-high

Carrie Nations

The mall was filled with anxious shoppers darting in and out of busy stores. Strung along the ceilings and walls were attempts to make the shopping center look festive – wreaths with big red bows, gold lights and plenty of fake snow adorned every nook and cranny. Santa sat near the center of the mall, ready for little girls and boys to sit on his lap and tell him what they wanted most this year. But at the very center of the mall stood a stage. Two girls on the stage were singing loudly off-key into their microphones, “We wish you a merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!” After their song ended, the MC grabbed the microphone, “Okay, we’ve got Christmas karaoke tonight! Sing your favorite Christmas song!”

“I want to sing!” my 14-year-old cousin said, almost pulling my arm out of socket.

“So sing.”

“I don’t want to by myself,” she pouted. “Look at all the kids here from my school. It will embarrass me to do it by myself.”

The mall is usually a haven for teenagers on the weekend – coming to walk around the stores with their dates, occasionally taking in a movie. I did the very same thing when I was her age. Would I have gotten up in front of all of my peers to sing my favorite Christmas song? Probably not, but there is a good chance that I would have too.

My sister and I had been singing Christmas songs in front of crowds since we were very little. My papaw would dress up as Santa and we’d visit needy children. While he’d hand out Christmas presents, my sister and I would perform the duties of elves – which basically consisted of singing Christmas carols. One of my favorite songs to sing was “Jolly Ole Saint Nicholas.” My sister killed me with this song, because she refused to sing it right. The lyrics said “Jolly Ole Saint Nicholas, lean your ear this way” but Tiffany insisted that it said “lean your hear this way.”

I’d tell her not only was that the wrong way to sing it, but it didn’t make sense. Being the stubborn little sister that she was, however, she kept singing it her way. We’d fight about it every time, so we should have just thrown the song out altogether, but it was the one we’d always try to sing first.

No Christmas is complete for my family unless we listen to Elvis croon out his Christmas carols. Elvis was usually played while we trimmed the tree. One year, while helping my aunt decorate her tree, we listened to Elvis sing about having a “Blue Christmas” and talked about how different it was to not have my aunt’s husband Gale around to help us. Gale had to be out of town that year for work, so whether he would make it home for Christmas or not was questionable. When “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” started playing, Tiffany excused herself to another room. We found her minutes later, crying her eyes out. On a Polaroid picture of Gale, she wrote “Gale is gone” and the ink had been smeared by her tears. “I guess that song just got to me,” she sobbed. I can’t listen to Elvis Christmas songs to this day without thinking of that.

“Ba rump ba bum bum!” My dad would scream at the top of his lungs whenever “The Little Drummer Boy” would play on the radio in our car. This would make my sister, my brother and I laugh every time. Dad’s rendition of the Christmas classic was obnoxious and almost unbearable, but it seemed to put him in a good mood every time it played.

“That’s your dad’s favorite Christmas song,” my mom would tell us, and while none of us were particularly fond of it, we were sure to play it just because we thought he loved it so much. Last year while sitting around listening to holiday tunes, the song came on.

“I’ve always hated this song,” my dad said.

“WHAT?” I exclaimed, “but it’s your favorite!!!”

“No it isn’t. I hate it. Your mom has just always thought it was my favorite, and I’ve never told her any different.”

“But you always sang it! You never sing anything!!” my sister said.

“It’s easy to sing, and it made you all laugh.”

Now, when we hear “The Little Drummer Boy” and my dad starts his throaty “Ba rump ba bum bum”, we tell him to can it.

In fifth grade, I was chosen to sing the solo all the other girls in my choir were dying to get. I was so nervous as I got up to take the mic to belt out, “I’ve Got No Man but a Snowman” and it didn’t help that Donnie Fraley sat in the front row making faces at me. I took all the song I had in me and pretended I was singing it to Jason Holyfield, hoping he’d get the hint that I wanted him to ask me to the Christmas dance, since I technically had no man. With Jason Holyfield in my heart, Donnie Fraley in front of me and to top it all off, I had just started my period before taking the stage, the odds were definitely against me. However, when I sang, I didn’t even recognize myself. To this day, I think God sent me the voice of an angel just for that moment, and had also given me the brains to go out of the house wearing red pants for the occasion.

So as my cousin Zannah stood in that mall persisting that one of us sing with her, I thought, Hey, why not? It’s Christmas time, and nothing gets me in the spirit like a good Christmas song.

“If you don’t go up there and sing, I’m gonna sign you up myself,”
Tiffany told her.

“Someone go with me! PUHLEEZE!”

“Ok, Zannah, I’ll go with you,” I told her.

“You will?”

“Sure.”

Together, we chose “I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus” and when they called our names, I had to practically drag her up on stage to sing. The music started, and soon a crowd gathered around to listen. As I opened my mouth to start singing, I realized I was the only one that was being heard. Zannah stood quietly lip syncing, her mic turned off. For a minute, I was moritified! I was singing Christmas karaoke in a mall in my hometown, and I was just sure there were plenty of people I had graduated with witnessing this embarrassing moment. But when the song was over, I watched as Zannah was getting high fives from the prissy girls in her class, and praises on how well she did, so any embarrassment I felt was completely erased. That is, until Zannah insisted on telling everyone in our family about how we made her get up there and she had no part in wanting to sing at all.

So yes, I enjoy all Christmas music. The jingle bells, the ba rump ba bum bums, the fa la las, the silver bells, the silent nights, the red nosed reindeers – without them, Christmas time just wouldn’t be the same to me. I’ll continue to crank them up and sing them whenever I hear them, and I will pass this tradition along to my kids too.

This, of course, includes all Mariah Carey Christmas tunes as well. I love that crazy bitch.

Carrie Nations loves everything about the holiday season except for eggnog. She really hates eggnog. You can send her a partridge in a pear tree at sundaysgirl@gmail.com.