Ambrose Bierce discusses Christmas with a friend
A letter from Ambrose Bierce, the great 19th century American writer, for whom no cow was too sacred to be pierced and dissected with his fearless logic and wit:
Dec. 26, 1897
Dear Dr. Doyle,
How I hate Christmas! I’m one of the curmudgeons that the truly good Mr. Dickens found it profitable to hold up to the scorn of those who take such satisfaction in being decent and generous one day in 365. Bah! How hollow it all is! Always on Christmas, though, I feel my own heart soften—toward the late Judas Iscariot. Why, even Mrs. Martin has wished me a “merry Christmas.” Great Scott! Who could want to be “merry?” Is one to grin through a horse-collar, or walk on one’s hands, because a babe was born in Bethlehem?
From → Humor