It’s 2026… and it’s not looking good, folks. Unless you are the blessed Mayor of Candyland, the odds are that you’ve had a rough year. The cost of living is an ever-tightening vice around the metaphorical skull of consumer liberty. The Epstein elite, high on ketamine and unchecked dominance, do not care. Neither do I. By this time next year I, along with all writers and artists, will have been disintegrated… our blood siphoned off to feed the abyssal motherbrain of our foretold Cyber God. After that, we are All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace ( a poem by Richard Brautian), or “We Be Fucked” (John Cusack in Con Air). Experts agree—nobody cares. We are under 24-hour surveillance by tacobell.com. We are wandering the seventh layer of Hell in a media-saturated trance. Burnt out and chained to the immense rolling log of late-stage progress. This is the heat-death of the human spirit. And just in time for Christmas!

In the past I have described the holidays as “family fascism,” “over-commercialized phooey,” and “genocide’s birthday,” but now I can see the error of my ways. We need the holidays now more than ever. The holidays, like the human condition, are composed of scheduling, self-sacrifice, and the fact that we are not alone. Truth is, we are obliged to one another and these green beans aren’t going to casserole themselves. It pains me to admit that annual traditions bridge the divide in this hyper-stratified, post-everything grind. Pulling family, friends, and loved ones together in dumb sweaters and fighting over where it all went wrong is a sacred ritual.

This is one of the many articles in the Mercury’s Holiday Issue 2026. Find a print copy here, subscribe to get a copy mailed to you here, and if you’re feeling generous and want to keep these types of articles coming, support us here.—eds.

Sentiment aside, the holidays are a judgmental and brutally competitive time. We could all use a little guidance. Except for me, I’m here to help you. Yes, “come as you are,” dear reader, but also “why would you wear that?” Let’s not walk defenseless into the Yuletide Coliseum. With this comprehensive guide, I offer tips and tricks to SURVIVE and KILL these holiday get-togethers, without breaking the bank.

Give Them a Plant

The key to a great gift is to say something about the receiver. To make them feel seen and appreciated. Do they like cooking? Give them a cooking knife. Do they love the outdoors? Give them a bowie knife. Did they just turn six years old? “Hey scamp, It’s knife time.” But what do you get for someone when you have nothing to say about them? Give them a plant. You can find plants outside. Plants are easy to find and easy to steal. Give them a plant, whoever they are….

Are they a distant acquaintance hosting a dinner? Have you not spoken in years? Have you never said two words to each other? Whoever they are, don’t come empty handed. Give them a plant. Tell them it reminded you of them. What does that mean? It grows when you water it. That’s a metaphor for every relationship. It’s like a simile for every conflict in the known universe. It means anything, because everything means something. Stepdad, distant neighbor, friend’s roommate… gift them a plant and let them do the math. What does it mean, the gift of watching something die? It’s a plant. It’s an invitation to keep trying in spite of the fact that all is lost. It’s the reassurance that all things end, and that’s a good thing. It’s a reminder that everything matters, but only a little bit. A plant is technically a gift.

Quit Something

New year, new me. It takes courage to break old habits. Lording it over your friends and family like a Super Bowl ring is the gift you give yourself. “Wine with dinner? No, thanks Dad, I quit boozing two weeks ago. Just water for me.” Congratulate yourself on your progress by backhanding your family with secondhand shame. “Oh yeah, brother-in-law, I used to eat chips too. Thank God that’s all behind me now.” Wield your new identity like a spiky suit of armor and inflict poison-tipped shame on your enemies. “Yes, former co-worker, I used to be a coward like you, running from my own feelings, but then I quit dairy and never looked back.”

Lord of the Rings (Extended Edition)

Is it difficult to have casual conversation in the same room as the awful uncle who did something weird when you were young? Put down the small screen and look at a bigger one. Put on Lord of The Rings (Extended Edition). With a screen time of 683 minutes (11 hours and 23 minutes), Lord of the Rings can change the subject all day! Lord of the Rings has it all. Seemingly about large masculine armies fighting with mystic weapons, it’s ultimately about two drug addicts biting each other’s hands inside a volcano. In short, it has something for everyone and the greatest story ever told. Is your mother in total denial about something that definitely happened? Mention how Viggo Mortensen, the actor, actually broke his foot punting a decapitated Uruk Hai helmet and channeled the pain into a once in a lifetime scream-take. It’s relatable.

Make Space for the Ones You Actually Like

Do you love and trust your cousin, but can’t say what’s on your mind in front of the rest of your family? Do you enjoy talking shit with your sister? Get the ones you actually like away from everyone else. This applies to weird friend circles as well. Walk around outside if only for a short exchange. These are the conversations that restore our faith in others. These are the conversations we remember and cherish. Chances are, they needed it as much as you did. These are talks we might regret missing out on, someday. 

Conclusion

There you have it, dear reader, another quick survival guide for the mad rush of the holiday season. May the spirit of the season offer a brief reprieve from the hardships ahead and may the artificially intelligent facade of American prosperity be just that—a low-effort lie barely concealing something horrific. Happy Holidays!

Ben Harkins is a comedian and artist frequently performing in Portland, Oregon. He’s also the director of Intrigue, a public access soap opera. Follow him on Instagram for show dates and other projects @thebenharkins. Bookings and inquires: benharkinscomedy@gmail.com.