It’s beginning to look a whole hell of a lot like Christmas. You’re welcome, bitches. What? You think the artificial snow spray on the window displays at Macy*s are starting Santa’s sleigh? You think NPR’s eclectic mix of holiday songs effortlessly covered by independent musicians imbues you with the yuletide joy? Think again, dicks.

Fact: I am the harbinger of the holidays. I am the Starbucks Peppermint White Chocolate Mocha. Forget those herald angels. Who needs silver bells when you’ve got silver balls?

I am so tired of hearing people say they know Christmas is coming because they can “smell snow.” That’s not snow, that’s the vapor precipitate of my bracing — yet sensual — flavor. My wintry blast of peppermint and white chocolate commune to create something bigger than all of us. The spawn of my rich flavor orgy is an annual celebration of peace, joy, love and commercial opportunity otherwise known as “The Holiday Season.” You’ve heard of Father Christmas? Well I’m his motherfucking Mother.

You think things were better before I started handling things? You prefer the traditional markers of the holiday season? Tradition is like wrapping paper from the dollar store: weak, impractical, and causes a ton of fights. Furthermore, is “Carol of the Bells” going to give you enough energy to gift-wrap a 65-inch flat screen TV? That’s what I thought. I’ll be there while you wrap corners and tape edges with the caffeine-induced precision of a Marine disassembling a rifle. I’ll be there, because I’ll be inside you.

It just makes sense. I’m a beverage — let this happen. Let me put the holiday spirit inside you with my delicious and warm liquid. What is your alternative? How else will you know the holidays are upon you? Would you want those holiday Gap ads where they chant “Go Christmas, Go Hanukkah, Go Kwanzaa, Go Solstice” inside you? They taste like a headache.

Worse yet, do you even know how it feels to have Old Navy Performance Fleece inside of you? It doesn’t feel like Christmas, that’s for sure. Don’t make my nightmare your reality; choose the right commercial holiday product. I’m here to make sure you never have to find out what the color “pinklish” tastes like.

I’ve got about a million times the fan base and market share of any other Christmas icon. The Hess truck looks like a toy compared to me. They’re so foolish. What’s the appeal for adults? Can they carry it around in one hand? Does it even smell seasonal? No, no it does not.

Don’t even get me started on the Rockefeller Center Tree. Really, do you want your holiday emblem to be an enormous fire hazard? Why don’t we just decorate a pile of crumpled up newspapers? And that tree is basically inaccessible for most people, while I’m on practically every corner. Literally, punch your arm in any direction and you’ll end up with a fistful of Pike Place roast.

My only true rival in the game is Christmas Coke. I’m coming for you Christmas Coke. I hope those goddamn polar bears have your back. This is a new era where I, the Starbuck’s Peppermint White Chocolate Mocha, stand alone as the official starting gun of the holiday season.

Like Bing Crosby, I’m dreaming of a White (Chocolate Mocha) Christmas. And soon you will be too. This is not a threat. It’s a fact. By the way, Rudolph is out of the picture. He was asking too many questions about my fat content. Don’t blame me, that asshole couldn’t help sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.