Since Halloween is almost here and stores have started decorating for Christmas (forget Thanksgiving, Christmas is the money maker) let me discuss what is the worst gift to give--sweaters.
On a side note, if any one who reads this thinks that Christmas is going to sneak up on them, consider this your warning. Christmas is coming so you cannot use that lie anymore. It is a lie since it is the same day every year. It is not like a ninja holiday that moves around and sneaks up behind you.
Now some people may like getting sweaters and I have only one thing to say to them; what is wrong with you people? They are itchy and fundamentally unattractive (or maybe I am the one who is fundamentally unattractive and bring down their natural beauty...Nah, that can't be it).
I grew up getting sweaters as gifts. Me, who has a very basic wardrobe sense. Seriously, my personal wardrobe consists of a black t-shirt and black jeans. Every day. So I had to fight a long hard battle against the imperialist gift givers who tried forcing sweaters on me. It was an uphill battle but eventually I won. I no longer get sweaters.
Fortunately, the sweater gifts ended when they did since the next step would involve armed conflict. Yes, getting those itchy things would have been justification for war. I hate them so much. They are itchy and send the wrong message about me. You know the message. That I am a jolly man. That is Santa Claus (since we are discussing Christmas. Well, I am. I have no idea what you are doing).
I remember one Christmas when it was like sweater palooza and that is all I got that season. I have never believed it is the thought that counts (unless the thought was to torture me and congratulations, you did well). I let loose with a volley of sarcastic insults that holiday. Women teared up. Men's faces turned red. Parents covered their children's ears. My 8th Christmas was rough. And I did not even turn mean until 13. This was still the nice me.
My 9th Christmas saw me bring a lighter to the festivities. People asked why a 9 year old has a lighter. My parents shrugged and I said (as I flicked the flame) that this is for any and all sweaters that are given to me. Okay, my actual words were "If I get any sweaters, I am going to burn this house down." You cannot imagine how fast those adults started changing the name cards of gifts for me. Funny, no one challenged me what I said that.
Eventually these people got the idea. It took a lot but they eventually stopped the horror. Of course, Christmas was tainted for me. This is why, when I worked in retail, that I would carry a metal rod with me during December when people got crazy desperate and when people made a move toward me, I would brandish the rod and tell them they need to back up. I also added some colorful language between 'back' and 'up'.
Yeah, I know, I am a real charmer.