Seawolf Slug: It’s still too early for the holidays

Graphic by Roz Kirkelie
Graphic by Roz Kirkelie

Back in the early days of my friendship with George — that is to say, last month or so — he took me on a trip to Costco to run some errands. As he walked through the many aisles, I saw a bunch of nice, pretty, colorful lights surrounding festive animals and a fat man in a red and white coat. I asked in bewilderment what these wonderful things were, and George groaned and told me it was all about Christmas.

After that, I quickly grasped the concept. After all, we have our own special holiday dedicated to our slug gods. And it’s cool that you guys have a celebration like that. So I asked why George groaned at the question.

And then he told me. And then I groaned too.

Mind you, this was back in early September. As in, almost four months before Christmas. That’s a third of the entire year.

George tells me Christmas advertising and marketing has slowly creeped earlier and earlier with each passing year, and that’s a phenomenon that pushes his buttons, so to speak. And I don’t know how long this has been going on, but it’s not really making me joyous, either.

Don’t get me wrong. Christmas sounds wonderful. Anything that spreads peace, love and goodwill toward others is certainly worth celebrating. But we don’t need to spend more than three months celebrating it.

At this point, instead of the joyous holiday that it’s supposed to be, many see it as a hungry, ravenous marketing monster that is eating up other holidays. And now that it’s starting to nibble on Labor Day, people are starting to get unnerved.

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For George, the earliest he allows himself to start decorating and preparing is around Black Friday. But even now, Black Friday is starting to creep back into Thanksgiving, like a reverse version of that chest-burster from Alien.”

It’s no wonder you guys are calling it the “holiday season,” because at this point, it’s practically become a full season in and of itself.

I worry about this because Christmas seems like such a wonderful time of year, and I don’t want it to be manipulated into the monster that it’s slowly becoming.

Yes, Christmas has always been a gigantic marketing opportunity since the turn of the 20th century, but it’s also been about much more than that. In this landscape of depressing events and collegiate studies, it helps to have one time of the year to celebrate love and hope.

But that time is growing and growing by the year, to the point where George starts seeing this stuff when the semester starts in the first place. It’s making consumers sick of Christmas. It’s tarnishing the image of not only one holiday, but several others that have been overshadowed.

Graphic by Jenna! Roosdett
Graphic by Jenna! Roosdett

It makes me really, really sad. A holiday that once captivated me and almost made me a believer in human hope has now been corrupted by big business, just like everything else. George and I are now depressed by a holiday that is supposed to inspire the exact opposite of depression. Of course, we’re going to be excited after Black Friday rolls around. But that excitement will be dampened. And it’s all because of that stupid Christmas display that’s been up at Costco since September.

I’d say the answer is just to ignore it, but not all people can. And anybody who gets depressed by Christmas depresses me and George as a result. So we have to change this somehow.

The answer is obvious: We have to stop advertising Christmas until late November, at the very least. But the numbskulls at Costco and Fred Meyer’s aren’t going to understand that. So what do we do?

We write them.

We tell them that we’re sick of Christmas, and we won’t buy any of it until the time is right.

Consumers have a voice, and that voice is in our wallets. So I’m advocating to you: Avoid Christmas spending, and maybe we can save this holiday season…

…By not celebrating it. Because we’re apparently Grinches.

On that note, as I dictate this to George for him to type, he’s telling me that I might dig “The Nightmare Before Christmas,” so I guess I could check that out with him. In the meantime, here’s your regular message:


Christmas comes too damn early. Photo by Tim Brown.
Christmas comes too damn early. Photo by Tim Brown.