Don Quixote is a noble knight, his best days behind him and his biggest dreams in front of him. Again and again he is struggling with his loyal squire Sancho Panza for the goodness and beauty of his dreams and loses as regularly as he hopes. So this time, as Don Quixote calls his rusty armor oils and his servant, the horse to get Rocinante from the stable. Here we go again, lets it Don Quixote know. The good fight begins, this time against the Christmas consumption, because the Christ child comes soon, and now in September, the biscuits are on offer. Don Quixote had collected all the brochures of the city, and Christmas and now he would read the special offers and kitsch angels announce the fight. So it's not, mumbles Don Quixote and whets the lance, a company must act. September is long gone and snow covered the landscape. Don Quixote, his horse and his squire are en route to Christmas to tell the consumer the fight. You know, says Don Quixote, we need to do, because Christmas is the orgasm of capitalism. The Squire looks'm surprised, half ashamed from under his helmet, and before he can say, teaches Don Quixote continues: capitalism is unbridled growth in a limited body and you know how to do that called? And what do you do with it? And without waiting for an answer goes on Don Quixote: Cancer! And cut out is the only right thing. The only medicine. The only thing that helps. And Don Quixote lifts his rusty spear menacingly towards the horizon and the squire Sancho Panza turn away frightened. He knows what's coming and he knows how this fight is. Don Quixote and his generosity, his eternal struggle, and he is at it again, and Don Quixote yelps with excitement and neighing of ancient Gaul and admired the squire but in the deepest heart of his master, and picks up the battered helmet Don Quixote, which he fell down out of sheer enthusiasm is. On the icy ground reflects the Christmas decoration of the supermarket and "Sweet sound the bells never lies "distorted in the air ....
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