Dispense with the judgement and hatred, held sacred the rest of the year. The ultimate fear: that there’s nothing more here. So, knock back a beer and find space for acceptance, to distance yourself from the darkened decay of everyday life. Do you hope to find Christ in spiced wine? That’s just fine for a time, but you know, once it’s over, your seasonal fervour retreats in the face of next year’s disgrace. For now, happy Christmas! Just focus on spurious wishes, that wither to dust as dozens of voices scream out at crossed purposes. Take the whole world and pass it to actual fascists, and while watching it burn in a trash fire, conspire to call it a happy new year.