God is wising me up. I have this year developed a profound distaste for the dreck that is America's current expression of Christmas. The incessant droning of "holiday music" on radio and in stores numbs one of any emotion that it was supposed to encourage, and will of course, stop precisely at 12 midnight the day after Christmas. The computer-driven tape loop will then be switched to the generic drivel, and not another tune proclaiming the glorious birth of Christ will be slid into the loop for another 365 days. Because, you see, Christmas - as defined as the time to buy things, travel, party, buy things, take time from work, and buy things - is over on December 26. Then it's time to think about New Year's, and the things to buy for that and whose going to be crowned first in the BCS. And then...white sales! Hum.....bug...!
Well, not me. I going to raise my voice in song in the bloody streets of Saline on December 26, and everyday afterward:
For unto us a child is born...and his name shall be called wonderful,
counselor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.
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