In this week's Point-Counterpoint, Public Relations Manager Andrew "Shaggy" Kinback sticks pine needles in the bare toes of those who love Christmas. His beloved fiance Jonelle picks the pine needles from her feet and offers her precious Shaggy a candy cane. The Vent Section team wishes you the merriest of holidays, whether you're a fan of them or not!

We'll start with Shaggy's article:

Oh, crap. Here it comes. Another holiday season full of that special “Christmas Cheer.” You go into any store right now and you see Christmas décor and Holiday sales. You turn on the TV and there is jolly ole fat Saint Nick telling kids to ask for an Easy Bake Oven. The malls are putting up their godly Christmas decorations and the rednecks are hitting the switch in their trailers to light up the Christmas lights that they have hanging all year round. Yes, the glory of Christmas is here. As I write this, it isn’t even Thanksgiving yet, but who gives a toot about turkeys and pilgrims when there are chestnuts on the open fire? The only nuts on the open fire are my own. You see, the holiday season is nothing short of a great, big, pile of reindeer poop.

There is quite a few reasons that I join Scrooge and The Grinch on the “I Hate Christmas” list. But I will spare you my huge rant because I know you are trimming your tree so I will just say a few words and let you get back to watching your Dad in a horribly tacky Christmas sweater trying to put the lights around the family tree while you sit on the couch drinking egg nog because you don’t want to get sap on your brand new Gap jeans. Pansy. Let’s start with the obvious. Christmas has become nothing more than a money making, commercialized, Hallmark holiday just like Valentine's Day. If you don’t believe this then you are a moron. As mentioned above, all you have to do is turn your TV on the day after Halloween and the companies start throwing their products in your face. What was once a time of family togetherness, the understanding and power of love, is now nothing more than a cold way to make cash. Christmas isn’t about celebrating the birth of Jesus. It’s the worship of the barcode. I can guarantee you that the majority of sorority girls on this campus read the American Eagle catalog more than they read the Bible. Probably ask them what a Bible is and they will simply say, “Like isn’t that the name of the totally new wave style Britney Spears is wearing, like totally, yeah?”

Many people, myself included, go through the holiday stress time. This is brought on by the mere fact that I must shut down the rest of my life so I can concentrate on attempting to make everyone happy on this one single day at the end of December. I say screw that. You know what I am talking about. I get gifts for certain people in my life because I love them dearly and hold true to them. However, there is always that one whiny little turd that says, “Why didn’t you get me anything? Aren’t I your friend?” Why, you greedy little selfish bastard! But of course it makes me feel bad so being the sucker I am, I shell out some more dough for presents. Soon my wallet is empty, my bills are unpaid, and my pets are eating each other. Another big stress thing for me is to pack up shop here in Radford and go home to visit the parents. Holy cow, this is horrifying. I haven’t seen my parents in months. I know exactly what is waiting for me. All those months and no bitching at their college son...they will be ready to pour it on I’m sure. “Why don’t you get a haircut? Why don’t you save your money more? You don’t need that. Stop scratching your butt. Stop breathing my air; get out of my house!” *Shivers* God, please….

Christmas also brings out the worst in people. Not in violence, hate, or lust. But in that sweet, nasty, goodness kind of way. We all know that person. Decorating their house and dorm the day before Halloween, being all flirty, singing Christmas songs all day, the whole works. It has to be an illness. I’m all for peace and goodwill towards all men but this person gives it too much. They are a fake. Right now they are saying “Merry Christmas” and spreading their fake holiday cheer, but the day before they were giving head to your good friend named Steve and cheating on their boyfriend at Tech. Do you want to kiss that person under the mistletoe? Oh, hell no. Once New Year's hits, this person will be slosh drunk and sleeping with your roommate. Back to normal.

So Christmas to me is like getting a menorah shoved up my rectum. It has lost all its meaning. Somewhere along the line Santa has replaced Jesus. Love has been replaced by Visa. Tim Allen got a "Santa Claus" sequel. Good will is given only on one day when it should be an everyday thing. People who think otherwise are living in a dream world. They are stuck in the Matrix. So on Christmas morning leave whatever presents at my door and I will get them the next day. I will be asleep.

And now for Jonelle's rebuttal:

"The Green Scent"

The voices of the dead pour out of the speakers. They sweep through the house filling it with music. This is the backdrop for one of my favorite memories, one that is rekindled every year, and is now so strong it will forever live on.

Despite the slight chill in the air I am kept warm. I can feel the hot chocolate as it swims through me, slowly warming each part of my body. It first warms my mouth and is almost too hot for my tongue. It passes through my throat where it proceeds to heat up my lungs and then my stomach. Finally it stretches into each of my limbs. Slowly the sensation fades, only to be renewed. It is not too sweet or watered down, but rich and strong in flavor. My mother makes it herself on the stove with milk and chocolate syrup. I remember watching her constantly stirring to keep the milk from burning. Small bubbles cling to the sides and a thin film forever tries to form on the surface. The color and flavor are more milky than chocolaty but the flavor lasts longer in my mouth and I get satisfaction from knowing it is real.

In the kitchen and dinning room there are many sweet and warm fragrances. Cinnamon and vanilla, chocolate and cherry, peppermint and almond all swirl around the air as the piles of cookies on the table grow larger and larger into mountains. Each kind is unique in flavor, texture and appearance. My favorite is my Grandma’s recipe for oatmeal raisin. It is like none other of its kind. Soft and fluffy it melts in my mouth; each bite screams with flavor. The oatmeal balances it, keeping it from being too sweet; the cinnamon and raisin are the dominant flavors that keep me wanting more. The buried treasures are another treat. These moist chocolate cookies topped with a sweet fudge icing have a secret. Hidden, buried under the fudge is a bright red maraschino cherry. The flavors from fruits and chocolate seem to belong together and this is no exception. When bitten into correctly I can feel the cherry burst in my mouth and the juices break out spreading the flavor, grabbing hold of all of my taste buds and satisfying each one.

Here in the living room I am lying in my favorite chair. Behind me and on both sides there is darkness. The only light is interchangeably blinking on and off, dancing with the music. With each lit light I am presented with an image. Each image is an ornament. The ornaments have stories that they silently tell. Some are older then others; they are higher up where they ramble on about years long since past. The younger ones on the bottom lead a life of adventure, forever dodging the long strong tail of Prince, our dog. The dance of the lights hypnotizes me. Sometimes it is all too much and I close my eyes.

Now in this still state I can concentrate on my favorite part. The slowly dying tree that stands tall before me gives off the green scent. This is the scent of Christmas. It fills the room; and I give myself to it. The sweet scent of pine is a gift from Mother Nature. It confidently but ever so gently embraces me. It instantly brings joy to my heart and comforts me. I never want to leave this spot and I never want this feeling to end. But it must, and when it does I walk over to the tree. I run my fingers through the thicket of pine needles, and softly I whisper my thanks as I take that one last scent. I always hold the memories close to my heart for it is one of my happiest. If I always hang on, I never have to say goodbye, and will never be without the green scent.