"Have you ever really thought about trees?" he asked. "They just sit there, and they don't move -- and they're alive."
I couldn't really argue with him there. And since that moment I have never thought of trees in quite the same way. Who knows what they might be thinking, after all? They just sit there, like Michael Myers in the insane asylum, breathing.
Christmas trees are way worse, though. Why? Because they're dead. And they're not just dead; they're dead and brightly decorated, like a corpse in a sequined cocktail gown propped up on your sofa. To me, this is not festive. Consider that the evergreens are symbols of eternal life, a promise of renewal when the world is dark and cold. To kill them in order to commemorate the birth of the Savior, therefore, seems wrong, even if only symbolically -- like showing your respect for the mighty lion by mounting its head on your wall. I know some people do that. Some people are creepy, that's all.
Then, of course, there's the fake plastic tree in my lobby, which plays tinny renditions of the most recognizable parts of Christmas standards. It never stops doing this, no matter how much I will it to. Day in and day out, it's "Jingle Bell Rock" and "White Christmas" and "Silent Night" and so forth. I mention this in the interest of fairness, because it's something that a real tree would not do. But that's not a strong enough recommendation, as far as I'm concerned.
Coming up in part three: Chanukah is a minor holiday that ended two weeks ago.
Total word count: 61,327