Three tasteless whimsies and a recommendation:

Hark, the herald angels sing:
Glory to the newborn Thing,
Which, because of radiation,
Will be cared for by the nation.

-- E. Gorey
*
It came upon a midnight clear
And ate up everything in sight.
*
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
O piss on thee, O Christmas tree.
*
For a hard-hitting Christmas *story*, read Chapter Ten, "The Ritchies Take Christmas", in Jean Ritchie's _Singing Family of the Cumberlands_, which I am glad to see is still in print. Read it aloud, even if you can't do that without crying, and sing the songs as you go. This is the best of Christmas and of Christianity.