Christmas is “in the air”; the “spell” has arrived, the “magic” of Christmas; they look to Christmas for something that supplants its authentic meaning, a miraculous and fabulous aura that generates vacations without compromise. The rebellious mass rejects spirituality, but not the holiday; That is why it embraces the nonsense, the absurd, the stupidity of celebrating religious festivals in style from a strict secularism. He doesn’t even bother to justify anything; it just throws a soulless party that, as is relentlessly shouted in movies and intermissions, “is up in the air.” The position is ridiculous, but when has ridicule worried the vulgar mind? To admit that Christmas commemorates the birth of Christ is to admit the transcendence and freedom that it supposes -true freedom to do the right thing-; recognize that being carried away by instinct is slavery; complicate the inertial and soft existence, soft and easy, sordid and narcotic. That is why the rebellion prefers to remove the capital letter, paganize the reason, trivialize it, empty it to stuff hollow slogans – “jump”, they say, without explaining why, taking us for fools, hoping that we will catch the spurious enthusiasm and false frenzy that they throw at us. as carob beans are thrown to pigs-; hollow slogans and a certain cerrile gregariousness into whose dense vapors they intend to plunge us. Christmas, for the mass-man, does not go beyond gifts, feasts, outfits and a strange, dramatic, far-fetched and spasmodic happiness; that feigned, feigned happiness, staged in the icy grimace of the social network, of the parallel reality, of the tambourine world that the rebellious mob, that redneck cafila that has confirmed the predictions of Ortega y Gasset, has superimposed on the real world. He lives with the avatar, in the avatar, in the controlled environment that one makes for oneself, designing an ultra-corrected, hyper-makeup, extra-perfect story that only occurs in electronic virtuality. The galley slaves of the rebellion cultivate their oneiric happiness in the greenhouse of zeros and ones, where everything is possible but nothing happens because everything is a lie, where there is no meaning or objective or meaning, and then they try to reproduce it in their lives. corporeal, tangible, sensitive and suffering. Big mistake, sad image of the populace exhilarated by the religious festival; of the rabble evacuating the cities with chiribitas eyes, an excited face and reason in albis, chewing the skin of the party, choosing the peel and discarding the fruit so as not to compromise, celebrating something without wanting to know what. After the rebellion the party matters but not the reason; It is important to take from each thing the convenience, the material benefit, the pleasure without the duty, the whim and the fun. The rebellious mass has plenty of content; he only looks for an excuse for the only possible goal when the spirit is discarded: evasion. The masses look for a pretext to escape labor punishment, social artifice and family martyrdom; an alibi to avoid the silence, to avoid encountering oneself, to become obfuscated, to be astonished, to plunge deeply into the delirium and bewilderment that can only be achieved halfway, on weekdays, with the horrific roar of headphones. The rebellion has generated a mass of fuguillas and maulones that cheat their existence; a crowd of fleeing people who need answers but don’t want to look for them. They prefer – they have been induced to prefer – to inhabit a confused limbo, a dead zone, a room of lost steps where everything is celebrated and nothing is understood, an endless impasse, a perpetual parenthesis in which there is neither going forward nor going back, a stagnation in which human nature suffocates. The rebel masses are a huge bunch of hallucinated people in apnea, and the empty party is helium that they are given to breathe, a gas that is not air, which stifles their voices and little by little turns them into caricatures, into laughable and tearful rascals. . Christmas is not in the air, no, but in the history of the entire world and in the history of each one. It is the supreme happiness, the true liberation that everyone is looking for but many fear because it can get them out of anxiety, from the comfortable and dangerous insubstantiality, that pool of lewdness, recklessness, evasions and gregariousness in which they slip, wallow and fail to get out.