In a message designed to speak out against the crass commercialism of the holiday season, Smith Valley United Methodist Church in Indiana would like to remind you that Christmas is not your birthday. It would have added an extra layer of meaningfulismness if they had written “Christmas is not your birthday”, but maybe they couldn’t find italicized sign letters. That’s cool. No judgment. We work with what we have, as I and Sigourney Weaver always say.
But if they had italicized “your”, they’d be implying that Christmas is Jesus’s birthday, which would, of course, be taking HUGE historical license because everyone knows that if Jesus existed he was not born on December 25th, which is – I’m going to assume – the date that Smith Valley United Methodist Church assigns to Christmas.
I do have two mortal, non-supernatural entity friends who were born on December 25th and who both bitch about having their birthdays on Christmas, so I hope they never see this sign because I’d hate for them to get confused.
I love the tongue-in-cheek snark in this video. I like the part where he offers to un-vaccinate against Hepatitis C (‘cuz there is no vaccine against Hep C), and when he tells us that Un-oculate will wipe out your body’s antibodies and reboot your immune system back to when you were a baby, so you can feel as young as you think.
When I asked you if there was a coffee shop in the clinic, you told me “Yes, hon – there’s a Starbuck’s right around the corner!”, and you pointed me in the direction of the supposed Starbuck’s. You chuckled when you saw my face light up and watched me scuttle off around the corner to track down the day’s first cup of joe. I wandered around the maze of fluorescent-lit hallways, and peeked in the cracked doorways of hospital-gowned patients who had their cracks hanging out for all the world to see. I passed prescription carts and mobile electronic charting equipment. I almost knocked a cup of urine out the hands of a patient who came charging out of the laboratory bathroom. But through all of this, I saw no signs for Starbucks, smelled no delectible odor of freshly-brewed coffee.
I followed my course back to your desk, bewildered and disappointed, and asked you to clarify in which direction exactly the Starbucks was. You giggled at said “Oh no, hon, you have to leave the clinic, walk down the street to Franklin and Nicollet and there’s a Starbucks on the corner.”
Lesson time: When I asked if there was a coffee shop IN the clinic and you said “Yes”, what you really meant was “No, you have to LEAVE the clinic.”
Just thought you should know. You know, in case anyone else asks.