Scott Green

I’m tired of all this holiday spirit.  Not the festive atmosphere of peace and goodwill to all who aren’t attempting to buy the same Twilight merchandise as you.  The spirit of the word “holiday,” as in people telling each other “Happy Holidays,” when they’re really wishing is Merry Christmas plus a New Year’s hangover that’s not too debilitating.

I’m not Christian, but you can wish me a merry December 25 anyway.  Christmas is a wonderful day for people like me.  Think about it:  Chinese food is plentiful; movie theaters are empty; riverboat casinos stay open.  I get to share with family a weekday that doesn’t count as vacation time, and we don’t even have to go to church.

Not that Hanukkah, the winter holiday of my religion, isn’t worth celebrating.  We get eight nights of presents, or, more accurately, eight presents.  This is to commemorate that glorious day in Jewish history generations ago when our forbears decided we needed a winter holiday to compete with Christmas.

Hanukkah made sense for this job because it’s a celebration of triumph.  Back in the second century B.C., a Jewish militia successfully repelled the Syrians or Assyrians, not that it makes a difference.  These warriors, who called themselves the “Maccabees,” were the precursors to modern-day Jewish heroes such as Kevin Youkilis and Rahm Emmanuel.

After their victory, the Maccabees went about repairing their temple.  The place was a mess because of all the fighting: there was debris everywhere, they were out of toilet paper, and the DSL line had been severed.  In the process they found a small jug which seemed to contain barely enough oil to stay lit for a day, but miraculously, they were able to fry it, thereby inventing potato pancakes.

So as you can see, this is truly an important cultural story worthy of being retold throughout the ages, or at least the parts of it specifically sung by Adam Sandler.  But this doesn’t make Hanukkah as good as Christmas.

See, December 25 is the most important day of the year for Christians, commemorating the birth of their savior, Mel Gibson.  No!  Wait!  I’m thinking of Easter.  On Christmas they celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ by lavishing gifts on each other, which has probably made Jesus wonder, over the millennia, why so few of these birthday presents are for him.

You couldn’t do that on the holiest day in Judaism, Yom Kippur (literally, “Day of Kippur”).  It’s our last chance to atone for the previous year’s sins, and it’s observed with dusk-to-dusk fasting.  This is a problem.  People can barely pretend they like their presents when stuffed with a festive holiday meal.  Imagine starved celebrants opening sweater vests and decorator fondue forks and the director’s cut of “Mad Max.”  They’d kill each other, and it’d be a year before the next chance to atone.

So don’t feel guilty Christmas is a superior holiday, and don’t lamely wish me “Happy Holidays.”  Go with “Merry Christmas.”  You know it will be!  I’m going to fill up on Szechuan beef and watch the Adam Sandler DVDs I got for Hanukkah.

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