the worst of Christmas
alright, my traditional xmas thread is started and now that i've gotten the annual secularization rant out of my system, i'd like to move on to a rant of a different sort. except that i'd like this one to be a bit more participatory.
everyone thinks i'm a scrooge.
not you people. to you i'm Jesus-boy. but in real life, pretty much everyone i know is convinced i hate Christmas.
i proudly told some coworkers the other day that, to my knowledge, i had not listened to a single Christmas song this year.* i may as well have told them i sacrifice goats to satan while anally raping small boys. and not surprisingly, no one even asked me why. it's just a given that if you don't have your radio tuned to one of the four or five stations in our market that play 'round the clock Christmas music starting sometime shortly after memorial day, you're a monster.
i have not seen, nor do i intend to see, the polar express.
i do not, nor will i ever, have any inflatable, animatronic, or music-producing ornamentation on my lawn, or in my home.
nor will i, for that matter, countenance even tasteful ornamentation until at least after thanksgiving.
in short, it's not that i have a problem with Christmas, it's that i'm apparently they only one in this country who doesn't.
let me give you a few examples.
on the first day of Christmas my network gave to me a 2 hour made-for-tv holiday movie starring peter faulk, suzane summers, and ricky schroder, written by some guy they found rummaging through the dumpster behind the sound stage.
on the second day of Christmas my radio gave to me feliz navidad re-recorded by j-lo with a special guest rap by will smith and a guitar solo courtesy of carlos santana, who, by the way, has sold out like george lucas with a crack addiction.
on the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me, a bo-ricks haircut gift card and a mention in the "international star registry"--a gift that's almost as timeless as a diamond, which, they tell me, is love and the holiday spirit all distilled down to elemental carbon.
i could fill out the remaining 9 days without too much trouble, but cutesy list-posts tick me off almost as much as the stupid song that's driving this one. the twelve days of Christmas is an abomination and it, along with its creator, should have been drowned immediately after birth. i've seen five carat cubic zirconias that were more tasteful, and besides "bingo" and "99 bottles of beer," there's nothing on earth more annoying to listen to, less fun to sing, and generally holiday-rage inducing. every time i hear it i want to beat random passers-by with a lead pipe.
and now that i'm back on the topic of Christmas music, let me a say few words on the medium in general: Christmas music sucks. there, a few words indeed, but now a few more. it's a crock. you idiots, you absolute blithering idiots, don't you get that? so i'm a scrooge for not opting to poke myself in the eye with a pointy stick or listen to "it's a cheesy synth-pop Christmas starring manheim steamroller!" --and now that i've sullied myself and my readers by mentioning the band whose name, translated out of the black tongue of mordor, means "laughing all the way to the bank," can someone explain to me how a band that has never not sucked has been somehow improved by adding Christmas music to their repertoire? anyone?
don't you people get it? the music, the movies, the made-for-tv specials? i'm not scrooge for rejecting this stuff. scrooge himself created it! he made it up, all of it, and you halfwits can't scramble to his door fast enough to pour your money into his pockets.
and every year it's the same thing. so much so that i'm convinced old ebenezer has entered the information age. want a holiday hit? go and sign britney spears, then enter ten cliches into the Christmas song generator at www.emailthisannoyingurltoallyourfriendsfiftytimes.com and out pops something like
i love snow and mistletoe
the special cheer this time of year
let's make Christmas last forever in our hearts
chestnuts pop and jingle bell rock
a horse and a sleigh make the perfect day
let's make Christmas last forever in our hearts
there. i just wrote that in one take at the cost of ten seconds worth of time and all you need to do is add a soundtrack with some jingling bells and you've got yourself an instant smash. you people don't keep Christmas, you rape it. you rape it and you hate it.
alright, i'm done venting. feel free to add any pet peeves of your own, but i'd also like to salvage something constructive out of the celebration of hackery and vapidity that is Christmas in america. particularly, i'm interested in pop culture's positive contributions to the season--which is why i asterisked my claim not to have listened to any Christmas music. i did listen to gene autry singing rudolf, which i regard more as priceless americana than crass Christmas crap. i’m going to list a few more worthwhile additions to the season, but before i do, i would like to ask that anyone who is amused by dogs barking jingle bells not read any further. in fact, go and shoot yourself. now then, besides gene, i would add
bing crosby's "white christmas."
nat king cole covering torme's "the Christmas song."
bobby helm's "jingle bell rock." (no, really, i like this one--it's a perfectly servicable 50's pop-rockabilly that happens to be about jingle bells, but we should not hold that against it.)
the 1964 rankin-bass "rudolf the red nosed reindeer" stop motion special.
the 1965 bill melendez "a charlie brown christmas." (unquestionably the sweetest Christmas special ever made and a classic in every sense of the word.)
the 1966 chuck jones "how the grinch stole christmas." (this one makes the less more because of my admiration for chuck jones than because of anything that glorified hack ted geisel ever did. geisel irritates me almost as much as the tackier aspects Christmas--how hard is it to write rhyming children's poetry when you've invented 3/5ths of the words yourself?)
also, both "it's a wonderful life" and "a Christmas story." the fact that you've seen them each five thousand times does not make them any less wonderful.
this is by no means an exhaustive list, just some titles near and dear to my heart.
locdog bids you all a merry Christmas
originally posted 20 dec 2001
merry Xmas to you.
2000 years ago in a little middle-eastern town, nothing in particular happened. a certain baby was probably born to poor parents, a child lacking a name, a personality, a gender, or any other definable characteristics. he never made any sort of an impact on anyone's life whatsoever. he never influenced a single thought or gesture. he never, in fact, got noticed at all. he was the most meaningless human being who ever lived.
for his utter lack of significance and merit as a person, this baby was named "X". X, the variable human. X, the mystery man. X, the one without a persona.
today, 2000 years later, people all over the world celebrate the birth of the most meaningless, unimportant human being to ever walk the face of the earth. grudgingly titling the holiday "Xmas", most prefer to refer to it as "the season" or "the holiday" thinking that perhaps even referencing the name of X is too much of a credit to such an poor excuse for a person.
this season was crammed in between hannakuh, kiwanza, new year's, and festivus because it was believed that such an abject failure of a human being should not recieve his own special month, rather, he should recieve the leftovers from various other holidays in the hope that the observation of X's day would go by with as little fan fare as possible. generally, this strategy has worked, as the "holiday season" goes by in such a smushed together blur that few people even recognize Xmas as being a distinct event.
a man without a personality given a holiday to celebrate his name, a holiday which, poetically enough, exists only to further his obscurity.
to this day, however, there remain a few dissidents who believe that X in fact had a real name. and not just any name, but a name so distinct and powerful that the very mention of it causes indescribable pain and offense in many circles. a name imbued with power from a Man Who revolutionized the entire world. a Man Who made a greater impact on the history of the earth than any other Man before or since. a Man Who's significance was so inestimably huge that the human reckoning of time itself was redefined and centered around His day of birth. a Man Who's life was the epitome of the human experience. a Man Who's life serves as an inspiration to those who manage to learn of it. a Man Who continues to incite social revolution and upheval where ever his name is heard even today. a Man Who died, rose again, and lives for evermore.
these few dissidents huddle together in camps with voices as small and frail and unheard as that of the Man they follow. working to tell others that X was not an amorphous blob of biological jelly, but a real, distinct person with a real, distinct life. and not just any person, but the greatest person who ever lived. they say that Xmas was originally designed to celebrate his entry into our world, but that, over time, those who were hostile to X because of the threat he represented gained in power and influence, and banished even the rememberance of his name to total obscurity.
who was X?
locdog wonders if we remember
him that pisseth against the wall
driving in to work this morning i caught the tail end of a bravura angry white male rant having to do with men being forced to sit when they urinate. i assumed it was a gag, but after arriving at the office it occurred to me that, if it turned out to be true, there would be at least one more rant in it for me. figuring it was worth a shot, i started googling, and lo and behold, for the past 28 years i've been subjugating women in ways i hadn't even dreamed of:
Young women in Sweden, Germany and Australia have a new cause: They want men to sit down while urinating. This demand comes partly from concerns about hygiene -- avoiding the splash factor -- but, as Jasper Gerard reports in the English magazine The Spectator, "more crucially because a man standing up to urinate is deemed to be triumphing in his masculinity, and by extension, degrading women." One argument is that if women can't do it, then men shouldn't either. Another is that standing upright while relieving oneself is "a nasty macho gesture," suggestive of male violence.
a quick aside on "splash factor." ladies, you don't know what you're talking about, so just shut up. you think it's laziness or lack of aiming ability but the truth is that it's a lot more complicated than that and that's as far as i'll go. i personally see nothing wrong with making him clean it up if he slobs up the joint, but let it go at that. because if you think you could do better, you're wrong. in my humble opinion, that's tops on the female penis-related misconception list.
now then, firstly, ingvar, bro, how about you just chop off the withered little twig that passes for your manhood and be done with it? you're a damned disgrace to all men everywhere...though i must admit that there's a certain satisfaction in seeing a "man" who would allow such a thing to happen get precisely that. just be thankful she doesn't make you lick the toilet clean when you're done with your dirty business, ingvar, you swine.
secondly, if i wanted to revel in my masculinity, i'm pretty sure i could come up with much better ways of doing it than taking a leak. i'd find some feminist and make her iron my shirts, for starters. then i'd go out and buy a gun. or possibly a dune buggy. heck, make it both. and i'd drive around in it shooting fluffy bunnies and cuddly squirrels while scarfing hot wings and guzzling beer.
here's the thing: when men stand up to pee, we aren't making a political statement. truth be told, it's nothing more than laziness. the Good Lord gave us garden hoses instead of artesian wells, so why sit if we don't have to? we're just doing what comes natural to us: quick, efficient, easy.
there's none so misogynistic as a radical feminist. it's not that standing up to pee is a celebration of masculinity, it's that she's got such a massive inferiority complex that she can't help but let it get to her every time she sits to let nature take its course. she hates herself, hates her body, hates the roll God and nature have given her, and, most of all, hates the fact that, somewhere, some man engaged in the same function is doing it standing up.
this might be a pretty silly example, but the general point is sound: radical feminism has nothing to do with femininity. it's just your typical leftist marxist power grab: take masculinity from the haves and give it to the have-nots. well, sorry ladies, but your self-loathing isn't my problem.
locdog pees on trees in the wild mountain breeze