It's almost Christmas, br and I hate Christmas. br I don't like getting presents, br because then br I have to give them, br and I spend all my money br on coffee and cigarettes. br br Everyone's fake at Christmas. br There's no such thing br as 'holiday spirit'... br not anymore. br Even Wal-Mart employees br can't say 'Merry Christmas'. br It doesn't appeal to all parties. br By the time they start saying br 'Happy Holidays' br Hannukah has already passed. br If I was a jew, br Hitler would be followed br by Santa Claus br on my 'I hate...' list. br br We have 12 Christmas trees br in our home. br None of which br were decorated br by anyone br but my mother. br br Today I played Christmas tunes br on our piano. br I took it as sight-reading practice. br Others thought I was also falling br into holiday cheer. br They were wrong. br None of the songs I played br were about Jesus br or Santa. br They were about fire br (minus the chestnuts roasting) br and blue, lonely Christmases. br When I played br 'I'll be Home for Christmas' br I was thinking about 'Denny's'. br br But the icing br on the proverbial Christmas cookie br took place when I braved Wal-Mart br about a week ago. br A tall, black man br was ringing the salvation army bell. br He was singing Christmas favorites br at the top of his lungs, br and it made me smile... br no because my Grinch of a heart br was warmed, br but because br he was drunk off his ass.