a hurl's best friend in poetry

Every time I see a Christmas commercial for a luxury car,
I ask myself if Western Civilization was actually worth it at all.
Diamond ads, even if you weren’t a scam that murders,
wouldn’t that much money worth of cheese popcorn be
SO MUCH COOLER than a little rock?
Television, why do you keep breaking my heart around Christmas?
I just wanna see Emmett Otter’s Jugband Christmas and
Mister Magoo’s Christmas Carol twenty-five times each
Rudolph and Mickey’s Christmas Carol maybe once
Scrooged with Bill Murray a coupla times and
I don’t mind you putting ads into it,
it’s capitalism and we’re stuck with it for now,
if you need to hock Dolly Madison cakes, that’s fine,
if you need to have a polar bear sell me soda, whatever,
if Target’s selling sweaters cheaper, I’ll even take that
but enough with the soulless aspirational Christmas ads.
Diamonds and luxury cars aren’t love
they’re a symptom of an illness
that I’d rather not have around Christmas.
The war on Christmas is not being fought
by people saying “happy holidays”
because Kwanza and Chanuukah and New Years are there too.
The war on Christmas is being fought
by DeBeers and Lexus
it’s a punch in the solar plexus and
cut it out.
It’s not funny anymore.
Instead send me thirty-five grand in cheddar corn.
I’ll finish it off by Valentines.