Tidings of Belated, Murderous Joy

I grew up in a school district keen on imparting a vague understanding and shallow appreciation of various cultural practices from around the globe to its mostly white, mostly upper middle class students. One year, in either first or second grade, we were given a worksheet on Ramadan that included coloring activities.

I don't have a problem with this, necessarily. Yes, it was funny that Mrs. Vincent, a 60-something white woman with a beehive and bright red lipstick, was the one pegged to teach us the ins-and-outs of Kwanzaa. No, I'm not sure this was the most effective way to bring about the post-racial society everyone's been talking about. But it's fair to say that everyone's heart was in the right place, and it's all in the (upper middle class New Jersey) game.

What I do have a problem with is that holiday season after holiday season, district-mandated cultural sensitivity training after district-mandated cultural sensitivity training, the powers that be never once deemed it necessary to teach us about MOTHERFUCKING CHRISTMAS PIÑATAS!

Now I know that a Christmas post in January isn't exactly "timely" or "relevant" or "something you want to read," but I couldn't wait another year to share with you the joy I felt upon discovering the existence of MOTHERFUCKING CHRISTMAS PIÑATAS!

Well, I suppose I could wait to share the joy with you, considering I discovered MOTHERFUCKING CHRISTMAS PIÑATAS! about a week before Christmas, but ever since I cleaned out my cell phone pictures the other day and came across the picture you see at the top of this post (again, taken about a week before Christmas), I couldn't stop thinking about MOTHERFUCKING CHRISTMAS PIÑATAS!

How could the people whom my parents trusted to educate their children have kept this from me? How could my parents have kept this from me? How could society, or at least The Simpsons, have kept this from me? It doesn't seem fair. Hell, it doesn't seem logical. If you're trying to get little kids amped about other cultures, what better way than exposing them to MOTHERFUCKING CHRISTMAS PIÑATAS‽ Are you telling me that children across this great nation of ours wouldn't leap at the chance to beat their presents out of papier mache wise men?

I also find it hard to believe that I never learned about this in Spanish class. I took something like 5 or 6 years of Spanish (my memory is not so bueno in this regard -- AHYUK). Over the course of those 5 or 6 years there were plenty of opportunities to impart cultural knowledge. Most Spanish textbooks, in fact, try to sprinkle in cultural lessons from time to time, usually in the form of small, darkly-colored boxes at the end of each unit.

These small, darkly-colored boxes at the end of each unit taught me a great many things. For instance, I learned that in Latin America even the grandmothers stay out until 6 in tha mornin, soaking in the rich familial and social interactions typical Latin American fiestas have to offer. This is no doubt possible due to the prevalence of siestas in Latin America. Just look at the similarity of the words.

I also learned about mestizos, and where they fit in on the food pyramid.

                                                                  Getty Images

(This is Egyptian, not Latin American, but you get the point.)

I learned all these things, but I never learned about MOTHERFUCKING CHRISTMAS PIÑATAS!

Is it possible that I somehow forgot that MOTHERFUCKING CHRISTMAS PIÑATAS! existed? How could I have repressed such a beautiful memory? What good is memory if it fails to store something so plainly magnificent?

Perhaps most importantly, could I have been unwrapping presents by savagely beating them out of papier mache donkeys for the past 27 years? How much untold joy have I lost?

There are so many ways to utilize a Christmas pinata, I feel born anew in the possibilities. Sure, these possibilities may not exactly be tradicional, but is not America nothing more than the transformation of the tradicional into something more frankenstonian and frenetic? Is not America a place where all kinds of ravenously greedy heathens become Unum? A rampaging, blindly joyous Unum that beats its Christmas presents out of massive MOTHERFUCKING CHRISTMAS PIÑATAS‽

The way I see it, first you'd have a stocking piñata filled with all the knick knacks that typically go in a traditional stocking (cologne, candy, razor blades, garlic paste, nut crackers, chocolate, etc.). But then you'd also have a different piñata for each present. Could you imagine the visual? Instead of coming downstairs to a stack of boxes bound by the tyrannical law of gravity, you would enter a world of untold splendor. Brightly colored presents float around you, pulsing with life, aching with anticipation, poised for the moment when your parents blindfold you, spin you around in circles, then hand you a broom handle with which to begin what will surely be looked back upon as the finest moment of your This American Life.

Of course, if you wanted to put electronics in the piñatas (or something else fra-geel-lay), you'd have to have some sort of apparatus in place to break the fall. Might I suggest a foam pit like the ones that eXtreme athletes use when honing their craft? Or perhaps you would prefer a giant inflatable tarp that stunt people shoot themselves onto out of cannons. Unfortunately, these apparati may tip your hand, revealing to your children what they already know due to their inability to refrain from peaking under the massive, quilt-covered stack of presents in the back of your closet: they're getting a Super Nintendo Entertainment System. I suppose you could roll out the stunt tarp every year, making it difficult for your children to guess when the fancy shit is coming. But you must consider that a decoy tarp would serve as a harsh reminder of glory years during leaner times when all you've got to stuff the piñatas with are watercolor paints and a klutz book about tying knots. But what are you gonna do? The kid's gotta learn how to deal with disappointment at some point, doesn't he?

Alternatively, you could instill a little bit of thug in your seeds and have them fight for whatever comes out of the MOTHERFUCKING CHRISTMAS PIÑATAS!, OG piñata style. This strikes me, however, as a little crass, like employing a Christmas-themed rape stand designed to help you breed the most efficient, calculating capitalists old money can buy.

Basically, what I'm trying to say is this: I feel robbed of one of life's most pivotal experiences, and so should you.

Basically, what else I'm trying to say is also this: my children will not suffer the same fate as I. Oh no. I will rectify this tragic injustice, and I suggest you do the same.

Feliz Navidad, readers. Feliz Na'vi-motherfucking-dad.