‘Tis the Season
Ho, ho, ho, here we go again with the annual season seemingly created to make a cynic’s life nearly effortless. It’s a little over a week before Christmas and the orders placed with my cabinet shop with expectations of them being completed before that day of gift giving nearly realized. Which brings me to my first observation; I call them “observations” in a desperate attempt to avoid the term “cynicisms”.
Approximately a month ago the rock music station I have tuned into in the shop announced that they would be playing Christmas tunes 24/7 until Christmas Day. Strange that the disc jockey was able to reveal that information with an apparent air of pride. True I will be deprived of the songs by that delightful Meghan Trainor constantly telling the world that “It’s All About the Bass (no treble)” and Elle King bragging about her “Ex’s & Oh’s”. They prove that slightly plus sized blonde white girls can make gimmicky music as well as any skinny inner city inked gang banger/biker babe type. I first heard about these two particular tunes when our daughter related a story that our six and eight year old grand-daughters took their i-pods to Sunday school and suggested that these would be great song to perform at the annual Christmas concert. Apparently the most disturbing aspect, at least for their pastor, was when our six year old grand-daughter taught the words and dance moves to “All about the Base” to the other little girls of the class. Check out the video on the internet. Another thing I discovered was that this story was NOT FUNNY and my apparent amusement upon hearing the story was a bad influence on our grand-daughters. To think, last year the songs and dance numbers were all from the cartoon “Frozen” now even their five year old is “All about the Base”.
Back to the radio music. Over a month of Christmas music? Really? Ok, I like Christmas music at least as much as the next Ebenezer but surely even the most accepting Who in Whoville has his or her limits. One more version of “Baby Its Cold Outside” or “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” and I’m going to lose my egg nog. Then there’s Bruce Springsteen’s “Santa Claus is Cumin’ To Town”, where he comes out with his condescending monologue asking if the band and audience has been good this year. I’ve been a musician and the chances of that or any band being “good” all year is about as high as Frosty the Snowman tending a blast furnace located in the Amazon Basin. Perhaps the worst of the lot is John Lennon’s “So this is Christmas” (War is Over). Don’t get me wrong, it’s a beautiful song written by one of the greatest musicians of our time. But listen to the lyrics, if you dare. The words can make the most charitable person in the world feel like he or she has burned down the orphanage and sent the children to a Siberian gulag in order to construct a bordello on the former shelter’s site.
Last week I took my musically inclined if not slightly inappropriate grand-daughters to the mall to visit the patron saint of retail sales, the one and only Santa Clause. He happens to be appearing there in person for the next couple of weeks, so don’t forget to tip your waitress. Photos with the old gent from the North Pole cost $10.00 each but he certainly earned it when the youngest (five year old) grand-daughter, after asking for a sleigh for her American Doll, said that “mommy says she would like anything this year as long as it comes from La Senza. So apparently Santa’s face can get as red as Rudolph’s nose. Actually our daughter’s face was a glowing shade of red as well when her little angle pointed her out to be sure Saint Nick knew who to deliver the “delicates” to, along with a proud thumbs up with her other hand. To be honest that’s not the worse gesture she can make with one of her digits, but that’s another story. It’s our daughter’s own fault in teaching the girls to think of others. There was a fellow set up in the aisle selling crafts at the mall. One of the items was “repurposed” light bulbs painted green, with a Santa’s cap and the face of the cartoon character the Grinch pained on them. He said that children really liked these and they would make great gifts for our grand-daughters. Who, besides Sweeny Todd, would give any little child a glass light bulb as a gift, let alone the three Chaos Sisters? I call them “the Chaos Sisters” for several reasons but at the moment I recall the time when, a few years ago, the then youngest middle grand-daughter accidently pressed 9-1-1 on her mother’s phone. The police arrived and because our son-in-law, their father, is a fire fighter for the city the police would not leave until the house was “cleared” of any potentially dangerous suspects. I could write a book...
So with that small glimpse into my world I wish you a very Merry Christmas (Hanukkah, Kwanzaa or other celebration) and the Happiest of New Years. At least most of can agree on the New Year... unless you follow the Lunar New Year. This political correctness thing is tougher than one might think. Well, be happy whoever or whatever you might be, just remember what the Chaos Sisters told their Sunday school class and Pastor, “It’s All About the Base”.