Every year, my family, most of whom are in debt in some fashion or another, exchange gifts. Every year, at least a few members of the family crack jokes behind other family members' backs about how shitty the other members of the family are at choosing gifts we really need. I don't even know how many damn self-powered flashlights I have.

I want to hit them all. The cognitive dissonance of Christmas in my family is a giant fucking neon sign with a wavelength only I can apparently see.

(For the record, every Christmas I grudgingly buy a few random members of the family used books that I think they may enjoy, total cost $10, total thought about family members quite a bit, and accept whatever the hell they give me with baffled grace. When I happen to genuinely need something, irrespective of Jesus' birth, I -- woah! -- buy it for myself. This tends to efficiently optimize my spending on myself, amazingly.)