Point/Counterpoint: The Holidays

Point/Counterpoint is a critically acclaimed and award-aspiring-to column that has appeared in such esteemed publications like The Agenda and Providence Monthly. ProvidenceDailyDose.com is its new home, and it is here to serve you.

Point: Aren’t The Holidays A Wonderful Time Of The Year!
By Eric Smith

Hey John, It’s snowing! Wow, the first snowfall of the winter. It’s so beautiful, you know? I wish you could see the way the branches are gathering a fine dusting of soft, pure white snow, the powerlines, bushes, cars, and lawns are slowly being covered with a vast, unearthly blinding and radiant whiteness, the sun’s warm winter rays exploding into majestic prisms of color before my eager and starry eyes. Everything is pure, heavenly white, like the white of a shooting star, like the white of a gorgeous newborn kitten!
Man this acid is good! Aren’t the holidays such a wonderful time of the year!!

I love the smell of the holidays, you know? The soft, rusty undertones of newfallen leaves, the bright tingle of their sent in your nose as you walk through their sidewalk piles, kicking them around your stride as you skip joyeously along to your beautiful destination, the far-off scent of burning leafpiles, wintertime fireplaces, cinnamon, pine, the undulating, almost erotic bouquet of a freshly fallen christmas tree, the smell of new snow, I mean have you ever really smelled snow?
Wow, I am fucking high right now! I love the holidays!!

And spending time with your family, you really can’t beat that. Nothing can ever replace your family man, don’t ever forget that. I just love being surrounded by my family, you know? My parents, my brother, my aunts and cousins all gathered at the family homestead, the fire burning bright and warm, and piles of presents bathed in the soft, multicolored glow of the christmas tree. Oh, and the stories they tell! They are so funny!! I swear my family is so funny, I’m usually in tears laughing from their awesome, funny stories, and the acid. God, it’s so great!

I’m telling you John, the holidays are the best time of the year!

Counterpoint: Dude, This Christmas Acid is Turning On Me!
By John Taraborelli

Stop it with the lights, man. Okay? Enough with the fucking Christmas lights. Shit is getting a little hairy right now and if you don’t knock it off with those fucking lights I…might…just…freak the fuck out.

Fucking kittens, man. Are you fucking kidding me? My roommate has a cat. He’s always sitting there: watching, waiting, plotting. I’m telling you there’s nothing behind those eyes. You ever wonder why dogs are a man’s best friend? Because cats are pure, calculating evil.

Oh shit, I think I’m gonna throw up. Shit! Is that a cop? Oh, fuck, why am I so itchy? It’s this cold, man. This cold makes my skin so itchy. I need some lotion for the itchiness. Some lotion, and a hot chocolate, and maybe some nice slippers. That’s what I need right now. You gotta stay in the house during the holidays, man. Fuck. Why did we leave the house? I knew this was a bad idea. It’s too cold to be out right now. This cold’ll be the death of us. It’s too cold and there’s too many lights. Christ, the lights!

Everybody’s so fucking smiley and cheerful with all the singing. Every single one of them is going to die some day. They’re…all…going…to…die. Have you ever thought about death? I mean have you ever really thought about death? That little kid over there is going to die one day. There he is just waiting in line to tell Santa what he wants for Christmas and all of us—you, me, that little kid, Santa—we’re all inching closer to death. It’s just hanging there like fucking mistletoe. You ever wonder where the phrase kiss of death came from? That’s where. Oh, man, those fucking lights are gonna burn my retinas out. Fuck.

I can’t go home to my family, man. Fuck no. I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I can’t do it. They know. They just know and they sit there and judge. They judge. I can’t do it. Not this year. No fucking way. My mom’s cat looks at me like he wants to claw my face off. He wants to claw my fucking face off—I know it. I can see it in his beady little eyes.

We gotta find a manger scene, man. I gotta talk to Jesus. He’ll get me out of this. He’s got his head on straight. He can get past all this holiday bullshit.

Fuck, man. Are you even gonna try to talk me down or are you just going to sit there smelling that snow all night?

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