My affinity for cheese and disdain for early holiday propagandizing

There's just no simple way around it. I love cheese. And it's not something I see changing any time soon. And it is a very curious thing when people don't like cheese. Yeah, I didn't think it could happen either. But they're out there, watching you, judging you with that queso contempt. Is it a jealousy thing? Like, "O, I wish I liked cheese."

And I remain perplexed.

I like all kinds of cheese. Cheddar, mozzarella, asiago, pecorino romano, cotija, bleu cheese (crumbles and dressing), cheddar, jack, pepperjack. I like cheese dip, cheese sauce. You know those chocolate fountains? I want one of those with melted cheese. Nachos 24/7!?!?! Are you kidding me? I would be the happiest man alive. And there would be no reason for a soul mate. All I would need would be a blow-up doll...made entirely out of goat cheese.

But to temper happy thoughts of all things cheese, I realized that the holidays are upon us. And every year you hear some people bless the season and some people openly hate it. There's no right answer and no right opinion, but I can tell you this time of year drives me nuckin futs. And I always blamed it on my family. However, recent research has shed light on an interesting approach. The week of Halloween I walked into a store and found an ever-growing Christmas section in the rear of the store. And as I walked by, it hit me.

It was the aroma of "winter" scented things. You know the smell that when you smell it you think, "Ah, Christmas." But there it was, October 22. And already that smell was around. I think the reason people hate the holidays is because we are for so long exposed to all that drives the season. Over two months of candles and Christmas trees and stockings and Santas and fucking elves and yule logs and bright, cheery signs EVERYWHERE and after the first month, you become numb to it. But then it seeps its evil and cheery spirit into the masses. News reporters report about it, people make a full-time job out of shopping for other people, phoney-baloneys plaster smiles on and sing carols so highly-pitched you'd think they never crossed the puberty threshold. And that pisses me off. Walking down the street, have some stranger pop out of nowhere, "Merry Christmas!"

I just feel like screaming, "Fuck you, cheery man. This isn't a jack-in-the-box, you can't just pop out of nowhere and start spooking people, you creepy bastard." My point: two months is too much time to be exposed to this crap. It's just too much. By the time Christmas or Kwanza or Hanukkah or Festivus come around, no sane person wants to smell another scented pine cone or see another stocking or be heckled by little elves at the mall. All I want is a Big Gulp-sized cup filled with peppermint schnaaps and hot chocolate.

In short: cheese makes me happy. Two months of faux-happiness doesn't. Just buy me some cheese.