Every year Americans have a vast orgy whereby millions of tall timber trees are murdered, so that they can be on celebratory display for a few days near the family hearth, and then be consigned to the trash bin, in wanton disregard of the many seasons which shaped one season.
Our urban civilization lusts for magic and the great outdoors, as manifested by the yearly ritual of Christmas. The people of the world feel instinctively in their common DNA, the need for the beauty of a pristine world, and the innocence of childhood. Why else would they glorify an old coot who hasn't touched a razor to his face in years, and whose hair extends to his shoulders?
The smell of Christmas appears to be the main enticement for glad tidings, with the evergreen bough being of paramount importance in sensory stimulation. All other scents like cinnamon, church candles cooking odors and department store smells, are merely auxiliary scents, on the trail to where we once were before corporate ascendancy--the world of wild, untrammeled beauty and individuality.
Who's minding the store? It better be Jerry Lewis!
Americans haul out all the old cultural icons every year, and the greatest among them is our movie genre. Families spend time watching all-day marathons featuring George C. Scott as Scrooge, Jim Carrey as the Grinch, and countless other "Home Alone (1990)" tales of self-sufficiency, celebrated as collective joy. We pull these film treasures out of the family attic, and then after the holidays, start anew with all-day John Wayne and Clint Eastwood Western epic marathons. God, it's good to be an American!
This massive outpouring of both a Christian and Pagan cultural mix, has come under direct assault by phony, made-up, politically correct holiday traditions, like "Kwaanza," and politically correct strictures, which define a "Happy Non-Denominational Holiday," as the new paradigm, so as not to offend the Bolshevik commissars and enemy aliens amongst us.
Now the whole point of this article is not to call attention to the proper attribution of Santa Claus as belonging to the Northmen, nor to talk of how Christianity grafted the old heathen religion as a foundation for the new edifice, nor to the corporate trademark colors of Coca-Cola, which fabricated the Santa Claus figure out of his progenitor, Allfather Odin.
The real meaning of Christmas in Western culture--most particularly America-- is the reverence for the tree as the primary focal point around which all other accoutrements of a consumer culture are put on display, as national wealth and celebration of the pursuit of life, liberty and happiness.
"The revolutions of time furnish no previous example of a nation shooting up to maturity and expanding into greatness with the rapidity which has characterized the growth of the American people..."
John Quincy Adams, 1802
Only a superior species of tree can claim this prerogative of growth; the American way of life.
America's true wealth is this great land of ours, and that is why the American people must hold onto this consciousness at all costs. We must NEVER imagine that we are paupers who are trillions of dollars into debt from which we cannot escape, and which will saddle future generations, for this nation has a military. The United States military can go forth and seize the stolen wealth of the American people, from the international bankers.
The molesting central bank has hypnotized the American people into believing that we have no money, no resources, no heritage, and that our lot is slavery to insurmountable debt of the Money Master of the Universe, the central bankers. It is these villains who have decreed that our nation become an open petting zoo for jihadists, mechistas and communists. They hold the mortgage on the national house, which is going into foreclosure, and if things do not immediately change, Uncle Sam will become the “Tiny Tim,” who dies a poor cripple.
"Too many notes, Mozart!"
Americans must abandon this consciousness of poverty and want, and consign it to the ash heap of history, which Ebenezer Scrooge made when he told Bob Cratchit to fetch more coal to warm the accounting office. We must figuratively "double our salary," by voting ourselves a new monetary system, lest we succumb to the not-so-tender mercies of the Federal Reserve's henchman, the IRS. This collecting arm of the financial octopus, which squeezes the American people to the last breath, waits just around the corner after Christmas, like a pest control figure in a top hat, with a wooden mallet hidden behind his back. This knowledge of impending doom, colors the national consciousness each year we celebrate, like the gnawing poverty which oppressed the Cratchit family in Victorian England.
The collective Danegeld must be paid as interest--never principal-- to keep the wolf from the door. Americans slaves celebrate "King for a Day," on a borrowed dime, when every day should be Christmas in the alleged "Free World."
No one is exempt from intimidation by the tax man, not even the governor of California.
Where is our “freedom from fear?”
Let us look around us this Christmas at the magnificent continent, given to us by Providence. Let us celebrate the freedom of individuality, in the face of advancing encroachments of politically correct conformity, made upon our national consciousness by that big ball of negativity called "the world," brought to us via the corporations.
We are a distinct and pedigreed people; there is no such thing as an instant American, or "dual citizen." We the People have been blessed by God with the two largest trees on planet Earth; Sequoia sempervirens, and Sequoiadendron giganteum. The coast and the mountain redwood trees.
Now this writer is NOT proposing that we all take a pot shot at the president, on behalf of nature, like Lynette Alice "Squeaky" Fromme did with former President Gerald R. Ford, but let us instead direct our national awareness toward the symbol of immortality, which coincides with The Redeemer; that is, the long-lived redwood tree. Thus we tie the Christ with the tree; pagan with Christian; death with resurrection.
The redwood lives for millennia, and when some hoary old giant finally falls down after two thousand years of life, the remaining stump generates a ring of new young trees, which spring up after the death of the parent, growing together into one gigantic new tree eventually.
The redwood tree stands as the evergreen symbol of immortality and a reminder to Americans that there is more to life than the number of board feet of lumber to be extracted for harvest. Tourist value and measure of beauty and greatness far exceeds reducing this national symbol to a mere commodity, designed exclusively to grace the aisle of a Home Depot store.
The American people and the land are interchangeable. Like King Arthur of olden times, the American people have merged their collective identity with the land. It is the breast of our mother, which nourishes us from dire want. As free men, we do not live by the leave of another nor the handouts of monied interests. Our Constitution tells us so.
We cannot sell our mother to some foreign investor, who holds the notes for the central bank. The time for "bailouts" of robber barons must end, but this can only occur with a sound monetary system.
We must awaken from our national nightmare, in dreaming dreams of poverty. This nation is wealthy beyond any Croesus, by our trust in God and our forefathers--NOT the United Nations, or the Federal Reserve note.
That is why it is so important this Christmas, that the American people give themselves the greatest gift of all--something beyond more credit card debt. This knowledge must include an awareness that the land and people are extant, and that we--like the Russian people--can recapture our greatness.
Let us make ending the Federal Reserve, our new holiday tradition. Let us throw off the ghosts of past Christmas slavery, and like Mr. Scrooge, avoid the national tombstone, waiting for us in the snowy twilight of the New World Order.
Uncle Sam must spend his coin on the people, not the banks, and then his name will be remembered--like Ebenezer Scrooge, as the good keeper of Christmas.
Laughter conquers death. Let us join together in national resurrection, as we continue to look to the King of Kings as our paradigm of resounding joy.
Merry Christ Mass, America.
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"Take a look. Good old Saint Nick is a very Germanic fellow."
"In the 17th century Dutchmen emigrated to Northern America and brought their tradition of Sinterklaas with. In the new English speaking world the name changed into Santa Claus. In 1930 a designer for the Coca-Cola Company was asked to draw attractive advertisements for this drink that did not sell well in wintertime. He had to use the company colors red and white and create some cosy type. He remembered the Dutch Santa Claus with his white dress, red cloak, long white beard, kindness and benevolence. The eight-legged horse was replaced for eight flying reindeer. A punishing Black Jack was inappropriate in this concept, so he disappeared. This new Santa Claus became a big hit. He became so popular that right now in Europe he is serious competition for Sinterklaas. That’s understandable: no more fear for punishing Black Jacks, and you no longer have to sweat on suitable poetry for your gifts. And the search for human perfection of Odin? Well, can’t we just have that as a Christmas present from Santa Claus ?"
www.nps.gov/seki/xmastree.htm -