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Have Yourself a Morty Little Rick-mas


RICK: Hey, what are you little turds doing in my space?

Oh, yeah, I was supposed to do an “Origins of Christmas” or whatever you little turd-farters want to call this tiny insignificant farce of a time you think of as a celebration. But since the traditions are based in basically a bunch of parties, I have enough time to kill, let’s do this.


We-(burp)-ll, I guess we better get started. Way before people deemed it necessary to celebrate a baby being born—y-y-y-ou know because that doesn’t happen every glorbonsecond in your fragmented understanding of the universe—Europeans were celebrating a fuck-ton of other stuff around the Winter Solstice. The days were getting longer, people were less afraid of the flying karma monkey or whatever the fuck they believed in, shitting on their kids and giving them demon AIDS o-o-o-or something. Then in Scandinavia, these men would bring home these logs and just set them on fire for a week straight. And then they would just keep eating for all that time. That’s like an entire Famolthorop’s food supply for like a japorthal. Can you comprehend that, Morty? Can your miniscule mind take all that in and….Morty? Morty?!

Oh, yeah, that’s right—I left him on C583 to get an Earth wrench or something, who knows; he’ll be fine for now. Time moves at one-eighth of an Earth second there, so I probably have another 5 minutes before I start caring enough to rescue him. But back to you shits because I’m still Holiday Rick!! Yeaaaah!!!! Remember that from before?! T-t-t-that’s my new thing.

Anyway, in most areas, Europeans would just straight up kill a bunch of cattle because they didn’t want to feed these little fuckers for the rest of the year. Then they would have a shit ton of meat, a-a-a-and most of their wine and beer was done fermenting.

Then in Germany they honored the pagan god Oden, who they were all terrified of because this guy would fly over them while they were sleeping and decide if they would prosper or perish for the New Year, you know like the governmental forces that hover over your every goddamn move and won’t let anything from under their bureaucratic noses.

In Rome, they would honor Saturn with Saturnalia because, you know, these were some clever fuckers here. Real class acts of their community. For an entire month, these people would just drink and eat, a-a-a-and slaves would rule, peasants would be in charge, it was all a real "fuck you" to the normal social standings of everything. Then the Romans would celebrate this other infant god’s birthday on December 25th named Mithra who was supposed to be born of rock. C-c-can you imagine that being in your fallopian tubes? Bet she can hold that one over his head for any argument.

After all of that, Christians decided they needed to choose a day to celebrate the birth of Jesus, because THAT was never seen as an important factoid to include. Way to drop the ball there, guys. So Pope Julius comes along and decides since everyone else is celebrating around this time, y-y-y-you know why not have another celebration celebrating another whatever they want to celebrate.

This "Feast of Nativity" spread to Egypt, then England, and then Scandinavia.

When they first started celebrating this new thing, they would attend church and shit in the morning, but after that they go out and get riggity riggity wrecked, son! Ha ha, now there's a celebration Holiday Rick can get behind! The poor would go to rich people’s houses and tell them to give them food and drinks and whatever else they could convince them to hand over, probably. And the rich didn’t give a shit, they were like, "We’re rich all year round, and you fuckers still have to be poor, so here you go or whatever."

Then these Puritan fucks went over to a new land and decided people were having too much fun with this holiday and left that celebration to fester over in England. And there was nooooo Christmas for years, which I bet that just sends your little mistletoe, fruitcake, snowmen, present, ornaments, stocking-stuffed dicks into another dimension of emotion. But then the Puritans' beliefs faded out and Christmas reemerged less as a party-filled holiday, and more as that time when you have to shove material goods into your offsprings' faces in exchange for their love and adoration. And after that…

(Morty comes in through a portal in the garage.)

MORTY: Rick, what the fuck! Y-y-y-you left me out in another dimension to face off against a bunch of, of, of Glaborbazaons or whatever they’re called, and you’re just sitting here talking to people about Christmas? Who gives a fuck about the history of Christmas when I’m out there…Rick, what’s that for? W-w-w-what are you pointing at…


RICK: That should hold him down for another second. He probably won’t wake up with much use of his brain, which doesn’t matter because that kid is dumb as shit, ha ha! I don’t give a fuuuuuck! Remember, that’s my catchphrase? I say that all the time. Alright, enjoy your holidays or whatever the fuck else you celebrate or don’t celebrate – I don’t give a fuuuuuck! I'M HOLIDAY RICKKKKKKKKKK!!

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