Of all the misery-inducing, stomach-churning, ear-splitting nonsense that assails us at this time of year, none of it is actually driven by religion.

Think about who lies to you and tells you this is "the most wonderful time of the year." Is it the Bible? Or ultra-conservative sweaterphile Andy Williams? Who insists this is the "best time of the year," your local preacher/priest/rabbi or fascist corporate sell-out Burl Ives? (Later, I will discuss how Rankin Bass's holiday classic "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer", featuring Mr. Ives, is a right-wing propaganda piece. I got that lecture every year from my dad.)

Instead of promising you perfection, leading you to crash and burn when nothing meets your artificially-raised expectations, religion tells you that in all likelihood your life will include some bossy Caesar-type forcing you to fill out paperwork in an inconvenient place at an inconvenient time, and when you show up, the hotel will have lost your reservation and you'll be screwed. Just because you might win one once in a while despite the odds doesn't mean all the crap flung your way disappears.

To explore the myths of the holiday season, I am making up my own nablopomo theme this month called "My Love-Hate Relationship with Christmas." And Hanukkah and Kwanzaa. Because we can't forget to include the forced celebrations of other cultures that nearly escaped without their marketing segments being exploited.