Jeremiah stopped beneath the three story Christmas tree in front of the shopping center. It twinkled with red and yellow lights while Mariah Carey echoed through the speakers. A cool breeze rustled the branches and sent a few bells tinkling in the chilly evening air.

He hated Christmas for the same reason he hated religion: it’s all unity and love on top and a grab for control and money underneath. Holidays and organized religion were simply ways the government kept people in line. And it wasn’t only the government. It’s all the people who claimed to be doing good, like the “For the Cure” lady who only uses 20% of the funds for actually curing breast cancer while she takes home $500k a year.

Yet here he was again with a gift list in his pocket, the most prominent of which were for his ten-year old niece. He considered turning around and going home. He was tired. His newborn was still keeping him up most nights, his wife just got over a cold, and he still worked 9-5 every day. By giving his money to stores like this, he was simply ensuring that capitalism continued to run his life.

But he had a hard time explaining his frustrations to other people and even to his wife. How would he explain himself to his niece? ‘No, I couldn’t buy you a present this year because that’s what the government wants me to do.’ No, that wouldn’t work.

He shuffled into the strip mall and perused the list with a sigh. “Stuffed Polar Bear: large and fluffy” was at the top. He knew polar bear hair was actually coarse and oily: yet another lie they were being sold. He wasn’t sure how this one was used to control them or empower the government, but it was a lie all the same.

Jeremiah squeezed around whining children and a raspy elderly woman in a massive wide-brimmed hat that seemed atrociously out of season. Before too long, he found his way to the stuffed animal aisle. A large polar bear with round black pebbly eyes stared at him from an upper shelf.

He inched the bear off the rack and took it in his arms. It was fluffy. He glanced at the price and groaned. It made him a hypocrite, didn’t it? Or a failed rebel? If he gave in to this. Didn’t this require him to surrender and let capitalism win? He hated this horrible feeling of disgust with himself and the whole country.

But as he stared at the bear, it seemed to smile at him. His niece would love it, he admitted. Wasn’t that more important than making a statement? It wasn’t as if his refusing to buy the bear would halt the flow of the government and the consuming nature of capitalism. It wasn’t as if anyone would care – except his niece of course. And probably his wife.

He wondered if he could hold both of these ideas in his heart at the same time: Could he hate what he was doing and the oppressive march of inflation while simultaneously taking joy in giving a gift that would make someone smile? Or would it tear him apart? He supposed there was only one way to find out.

He bought the stuffed animal and set it in the back of the car. Then he settled into his seat and looked out the window at the tree again. It’s all too flashy, he thought. Then he glanced at the rest of his list. Alright, he decided, let’s get this glorified holiday misery over with. But the thought didn’t weigh as heavy as it had before.