by mr dan
All the Christians in Christ-town found Christmas quite fair,
But the non-Christians, who made up two-thirds of the world’s population, didn’t care.
Now they didn’t hate Christmas at all — au contraire
They just wanted the Christians to stay out of their hair.
They wanted to know if there was any sane reason
Why Christians got mad at the words “holiday season,”
And why, outside Christ-town, every town square and green
Was besmirched with the birth of the old Nazarene.
So the non-Christian leaders asked the Christians politely
Whether Christian contraband could be stationed more rightly
In their houses, their yards, their churches and ministries,
Rather than tax-payer funded vicinities.
Instead of a reasoned and left-brained response
Their reaction was angry and mad all at once.
“They don’t celebrate Christmas!” they cried with a sneer
“They have no joviality, no pep, and no cheer!
Perhaps they’re just cold, or they worship false idols!
Or weren’t beaten severely enough with their Bibles!
But we know that the most likely reason of all
Must be that their hearts are two sizes too small!”
Now the non-Christians heard this and stifled a snigger.
For their hearts, and all parts, were as big if not bigger.
Most were prone to charity and kindness and love,
A few even without fear of fire from above.
But the Christians tried hard to make everyone join in
Their boisterous festivities and unbounded toiling.
Christmas could not be a season for some
If the Christians were ever to have any fun.
They set out to desecularize what once had been free
and make this land a Noel-ocracy,
To make sure the government supported their cause
And chose Santa instead of the Establishment Clause.
No one could be seen not enjoying the holiday
or not watching a poorly-acted Dickensian teleplay.
Every store was required to play Christmas songs
Which were musically vapid and ran far too long.
The tintinnabulation of bells was ceaseless,
And you couldn’t have a parade without a shout-out to Jesus.
Some Christmas fanatics were even so ambitious
That they’d kick you in the chestnuts if you didn’t say, “Merry Christmas.”
And outside their homes they competed collectively
To see who could use up the most electricity,
With flashers and beepers and blinkers and strobes
To inculcate Christmas in our frontal lobes.
And once it was established that this time of year
Owed everything to Jesus and Santa’s reindeer,
and not, for example, to axial tilt,
Then came the time to pour on the guilt.
“We need a way,” thought the good Christian leaders,
“to slander those unAmerican unbelievers
Those scoundrels, those fools who hath said in their hearts
that there is no God, just science and the arts.
Something that will make them seem stupid and lit’ler
And, if possible, even link them with Hitler.
To smear these worshippers of Galapagan finches
We’ll brand them all as Scrooges and Grinches!
Yes, Grinches, my friends, for they hate Christmas cheer
They hate the most wonderful time of the year.
Taking literary characters out of context is what we’ll do,
Just like we did to Horton Hears a Who.”
“Wait just a minute,” said one kindly Protestant.
“Isn’t that drastic, deceptive and incompetent?
I mean, the Grinch wasn’t simply not a believer.
He waged war on all the good Christmas Eve-ers.
“His hatred of joy and singing and laughter
had nothing to do with his views on Hereafter.
He was just mean and nasty, his heart was too small.
That doesn’t describe these non-Christians at all.”
And that kindly old Protestant who’d never been hated
Found himself promptly defenestrated.
“Any other objections?” asked the good Christian leaders.
“Nah, we’re cool,” said the pious believers.
And so the tintinnabulators went forth
With slander and calumny from south to the north.
Now instead of just being different from the majority
Non-Christians had to deal with being thought of horribly.
But the so-called Grinches continued to be kind
And generous and loving as they were inclined,
For what could the non-Christians do in this crisis?
Just hope the Christians’ hearts would eventually grow fifteen sizes.
So remember, I’ve got no problem with your Christmas tree
(Even though it’s tacky) — I’m just glad we’re all free
To live in a land where we may worship, or not,
A magic baby, a stack of turtles or a floating tea pot.
And if I may just preempt those about to object:
To the great Dr Seuss I mean no disrespect.
But there’s one stand from which I will not budge one inch.
Whatever you do, don’t call me a Grinch.
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