«I'm always the first one to say things for the second time».
So am I, I think, but I don't care much about it. As it stands in my so‑called profile, I'm "unique but not original".
Within one month, Christmas will be over. I'm anticipating that day already. And I'll be glad at last. Till then I shall have to put up with the season's nonsense show: crazy hysteria, obscene consumerism, cretin commercials all over and at all times, ugly, ridiculous lights everywhere (some of them on since October!), inappropriate music playing out loud everywhere, and so on, and so forth. Shamelessly.
Only two verbs matter these days: buy and sell, and all their possible, thinkable synonyms. Instead of "to be" you feel compelled to conjugate the verb "to have". "The more you have, the more you are" seems to be the rule. Perhaps. Not for me though, thank you so very much.
My little corner of the world will be my safe refuge, my desert island. Till then I'll seek shelter in my inner world. There's so much to go through, again and again. I don't need more stupid goods. I have plenty as long as I'm at peace with myself and my fellow creatures. I pity today's children. They'll never know what true Christmas is really like.
Where has my childhood's Christmas gone to?
Who stole it from me? From us all?
Who turned it into a carnival, into a cheap porn show?
"Eight hundred fifty million – 850,000,000 – people, fellow creatures of mine, of us all, hunger everyday." In our 21.st century's world of abundance. Most of them face a death sentence that sooner or later will be mercilessly executed.
Don't talk to me about Christmas. I don't want to hear.