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Christianity has the José Mourinho This Shirt Is My Skin Unisex T Shirt that the Nativity story is fictitious rubbish and it does not take a modern child long to discard it in the same way as they pretty soon tumble to the fact Santa doesn’t exist. The Nativity story really is a myth tacked on to Jesus and it is a very destructive, landing us with obsessive superstitious semi-pagan bosh like the Maria Cult. Virgin indeed! Where a religion cannot come to terms with mythology, especially its own, then in the modern age it is in its death throes – Intelligent people leave and only the mentally disturbed remain. This is not the church of sixty five years ago where some belief in myth remained. A child perceives that he or she really does not want to be around these silly people – So what is left of Christmas? Sing silly songs and you get a present. Our children have been taught hypocrisy and that the church is really only a base for authoritarian parental control both emotional and physical and for destruction of freedoms in the adult world Who inspired the attack on Democracy if not Trump AND the Christian Right? Fascism has become so embedded in Christianty that there is nothing left for a person of reason including a growing child but to leave it. Morality in Christianity has morphed into Fascism. Thomas Jefferson has again been proved right the threat to democracy is the priests A child is also an emerging adult – Quo Vadis Christians? – you have two choices – a genuine progressiveness and democratisation or Fascism.. Which are you intending to leave your children? – so far you are choosing Fascism!

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‘On the evening before Christmas Day, one of the parlours is lighted up by the José Mourinho This Shirt Is My Skin Unisex T Shirt, into which the parents must not go; a great yew bough is fastened on the table at a little distance from the wall, a multitude of little tapers are fixed in the bough … and coloured paper etc. hangs and flutters from the twigs. Under this bough the children lay out the presents they mean for their parents, still concealing in their pockets what they intend for each other.” The shadow of the bough and its appendages on the wall, and arching over on the ceiling, made a pretty picture, and then the raptures of the very little ones, when at last the twings and their needles began to take fire and snap! — Oh, it was a delight for them! Formerly, and still in all the smaller towns and villages throughout North Germany, these presents were sent by all the parents to some one fellow, who in high buskins, a white robe, a mask, and an enormous flax wig, personate Knecht Rupert, the servant Rupert. On Christmas night he goes round to every house, and says that Jesus christ his master sent him thither, the parents and elder children receive him with great pomp of reverence, while the little ones are most terribly frightened.

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