I write books, not poems

Merry Christmas to you all, although it’s a bit early. I hope you’re all away with your loved ones (I hope you have some – if not, they’re doing a sale down at Marks & Spencer) and enjoying the season, unlike some of us that will probably be working in a lab. And [WARNING: EVIL CHRISTIAN PROPAGANDA AHEAD] I also hope that you remember what it’s there for, and why we still celebrate it two millennia later…

However, in the interest of my beloved Political Correctness, I thought I’d modify the season’s wishes to make everyone happy. So, Happy/Merry Christmas/Xmas/Preferred Doctrinal Affiliation Remembrance/Holiday to everyone, inclusive of men and women in random order and complete equality, without disregarding those NOT celebrating due to ecological, social, political, and/or moral consciousness, disillusionment, debt, disgruntlement, disenfranchisement, discombobulation, or lack thereof.

There. And for the sake of completion, I think we should start making Political Correctness cards, which, of course, will be the size of a poster and will carry a tag saying “DELETE AS APPROPRIATE”.

Finally, I couldn’t leave you without presenting you with the epic, tear-wrenching, supremely lyrical Christmas poem that I wrote. It took me hours.

‘Twas the night before Christmas
and locked in the lab,
a sad little student

was working like mad.

And then he quit.

The End

For unto us a Child is born,
Unto us a Son is given;
And the government will be upon His shoulder. And His name will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father,
Prince of Peace.
Isaiah 9:6

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