'Twas three months before Christmas

by Paul Kandarian

‘Twas three months before Christmas and all through the land Christmas commercials were airing, it was so far out of hand!

No stockings were yet hung, it would be far, far too soon To hope St. Nicholas’s gifts would soon make us swoon!

But there on the telly, flashing and screaming Were entreaties from companies evilly scheming

To get us to spend, and spend, and spend even more Until our purses were empty, leaving us all dirt poor!

I shook my head glumly and looked about the room, A sense of sadness upon me, all gloom and all doom.

The children were nestled all snug in their phones While visions of TikTok fame danced in their bones!

My wife watched TV intently, making happy note of the “sales” Nothing more than retail cons thinly shrouded by glitzy veils.

We sat too quietly, Mama with her wine, me with my beer My brain feeling the strain of so many commercials already here!

I mean there on the telly, this materialistic natter Made me spring to my feet, my thoughts in a tatter.

But I had to say something to ease my darkness within I had to say something to make my family begin

To see the true meaning of the holiday’s intent Not this vile, rapacious materialistic bent!

Away to the telly I flew like a flash And with my empty beer bottle, the screen I did smash!

My family was aghast at such a display Of their father, ere so calm, his mind now fiercely astray!

“The commercials harp at us,” I cried, “a relentless attack With no frost yet to form, no clock yet to set back!

“It is endless and tiring and should be deemed a true crime To part us from our money far too long before it’s time!”

I roared out my screed before their astonished eyes No pulpit was needed as I thundered words I thought wise.

“Don’t you see, can’t you hear, the prattle and drone Of American big business making our souls all their own!

“With propaganda and puffery and sheer razzmatazz To take our hard-earned cash with their evil marketing jazz!

“Stealing the true meaning of Christmas from our heart and our mind Which should be love and sharing and peace for mankind,

“Not gift after gift with all thoughts of ourselves As we pillage the store village, tearing down from the shelves

“Things that have no true meaning, no worth at their core And for what, I pray thee, for what?!” I did implore.

“For gifts so shiny and noisy and whirring and loud? Is that what’s important to us, does that make us proud?

“Or is the joy in our hearts that we must share with all That is the key to our future?” my words bellowed in a squall.

I stood silent and still, letting out a long sigh, A single tear of sorrow, yet hope, glistening in one eye.

“No TVs, no toys, no fancy gadgetry, no more... It’s all about love,” I whispered, that tear dripping to the floor.

It was eerie and quiet, the TV screen smashed into darkness My family in near shock, alarmed by the starkness.

The droning noise of the sales pitches gone in flash Their father shuffling slowly to stand by the sash

And look out upon trees not yet wearing fall hues. I shook my head and moaned, “Oh, what’s the use?”

My wife stood beside me, gently holding my arm And trying her best to ease my alarm

And talk me down from my dread and the ache of despair With talk of Christmas too soon already heavy in the air.

“The holiday is coming, this much we know to be true But we must do shopping early for all that is shiny and new!

“For the pandemic has laid all shipping plans to waste, So now we shop earlier, so now we make haste

“To avoid the disappointment and sorrow on our children’s faces We must shop and shop and shop to cover all possible bases!”

I looked sadly at our children, lost in their phone’s telling glow And formed the question, the answer of which I needed to know.

“What’s important to you, my dear girl and dear boy, “What’s the true meaning of Christmas, what would bring you the most joy?”

They looked up from their phones, briefly stopping their tapping attacks, And said with a shrug, “Duh, Dad, the iPhone 13 Pro Max!”

“Who’s responsible for this, this rampant buy buy buy!” I screamed out the window, I screamed at the sky.

And then in a twinkling, there appeared in a poof The grinning bald head of the grinning bald-headed proof.

“It is I!” said this hologram that popped into view. “It is I!” said the grinning bald head, and I knew it was true

That this vision, this specter, this image unholy Had stolen the meaning of a season so totally.

For there shimmered Jeff Bezos, the new god of Christmas Who said with a smile, “My friend, I am the isthmus,

“The connective thread to what you don’t know you truly need If not for my grinning, bald-headed marketing greed!

“And if that means starting your shopping earlier still That is my method, my madness, my skill!”

And before he shimmered away, he turned and laughed and said without pause, “My friend, you surely know, ‘TIS I WHO IS NOW THE TRUE SANTA CLAUS!”

Of course he was right, I thought with chagrin, The new meaning of Christmas was not from within

But from the joyous feeling of buying too much From screens where we purchase with the merest of touch!

I looked back at the set I’d smashed into pieces And knew in a flash the meaning of what peace is:

I turned to the sky and shouted with glee, “Hey Mr. Bezos, how about a new flat-screen TV?”

And to everyone I do say, especially the Amazon Almighty Happy Christmas to all, and see you on Black Friday!