Isaiah 9:6 is a joyous battle cry on the birth of the Christ, our incredible prophet, priest and king:
“For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.”
With a party anthem like that for the army of Christian soldiers in America (and around the world), the bitter feminist scolds who want to ruin everyone’s dreams of sugarplums don’t stand a chance!
Not that the bitter, anti-Christian feminist scolds didn’t give it their best effort this year.
As we reported earlier this month, an elementary school principal tried to ban candy canes in classrooms because she had convinced herself that the cane-shape was actually a ‘J.’ And you know what J stands for, right? Jesus! It says it right there in the name of the candy Js! (Weird fact: If you turn the candy Js upside-down, they look exactly like CANES!)
Then, the bitter feminists tried to ban the holiday classic, “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” from the radio airwaves. The uneducated SJWs of 2018 decided that this flirtatious holiday hit from the 1940s was actually about date rape. This hidden code was right out there in the open for 70 years with no one noticing it before these geniuses came along. Feminist math professors solved the equation for the rest of us: Christmas carols = date rape.
And do you know what’s worse than date rape carols? The children’s cartoon classic, “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” Do you know what this cartoon subliminally plants in the minds of impressionable children when Rudolph is chosen to guide Santa’s sleigh?
That’s right: By selecting an icky BOY reindeer to guide the sleigh with his glowing nose, it enforces the entrenched gender stereotypes by the Cisgender Heteronormative Fascists of the P-p-p-patriarchy! It’s just one step away from Vice President Mike Pence dressing all the women of America up in the red-and-white burkas from “The Handmaid’s Tale!”
Perhaps no feminist scold is more bitter on the happiest day of the year – Christmas – than Ms. Suzanne Moore of The Guardian. Ms. Moore is the author of such nail-biting articles as “Can Leftwingers be Friends with Conservatives?” (Bet you can’t guess her answer to that question!) and “The US Press Corps Has to Learn to Stand up to Trump.” Yes, it would be such a relief if only the media would get over its sheepishness and begin to be critical of the president! They’re just too cozy with him!
For Christmas of 2018, Ms. Moore decided to spoil everyone’s eggnog with an article titled, “Why do we endlessly re-enact this ridiculous Victorian fantasy for Christmas?” What ridiculous Victorian fantasy has triggered her, perchance? Images of families with the husband, wife and children celebrating the joy of the Christmas season together.
Ms. Moore huffs that her Christmases aren’t like that, so everyone else’s Christmas must be ruined as well. She’s all alone with her cats on Christmas, because apparently her grownup kids are still bitter about how she threw dad to the curb in order to divorce him and prove to the world what a strong feminist she is. Images of happy families on television at Christmastime now upset her, “Because no one who is not a fembot can live up to all these expectations.”
Sounds like somebody should have spent more time under the mistletoe. The horror! What woman could be expected to be wife and a mother and still have time to write enlightening articles like, “Kellyanne Conway proves patriarchy has no gender?”
We’d like to recommend that Ms. Moore go and watch “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” to see if that would convince her to find some Christmas cheer in her heart which is two sizes too small. But then we remembered that the Grinch reinforces stereotypes about Google employees who identify as asexual green-skinned hermits.
Never, ever let the bitter feminist scolds ruin our holiday for the children. Pray for the feminists and their cats. Then, celebrate Jesus today in the wreckage of tinsel, wrapping paper and childlike joy that has engulfed what used to be your living room. You can always clean up tomorrow. Our King was born and more importantly, He is risen!
Now, if you’ll excuse us. We’re going to pour ourselves another glass of eggnog and put on “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” Then we plan to hang out under the mistletoe in an alluring patriarchal fashion until we catch Mrs. Christian Patriot Daily’s eye.
Merry Christmas everyone!
