Several Days of Christmas Malaise

Generally, when a writer, or advertisement, is going to introduce something that is Christmas themed, they are obligated by law to use the phrase “that time of year.” The statement is intended to evoke a feeling of blissful excitement at the prospect of eventful times filled with family and presents!… I would not use it with such an intention as I feel that “that time of year” brings with it an equal (or larger) portion of awkwardness, stress, and many things that should be addressed with a greater degree of scrutiny.

I find that there are many aspects of “that time of year” that are too readily accepted without any question and I intend to address SEVERAL of them.

It is an injustice that I should be subjected to a choir of children demanding “a little Christmas” every day I go to work (at least 25 times).

First of all, I don’t know how to give ANY Christmas… Much less appropriately portion out “a little.” Demanding that someone perform an action that they can’t comprehend is very rude! It is like asking the blind for advice on a color scheme. Demanding it “this very minute” only adds more stress to this unfortunate circumstance. When a fellow is asked without warning how old he is, more often than not, he will have to pause before giving an answer. Suddenly expressing a “need” for something “this very minute” can potentially cause a pause AND a panic as the poor fellow wracks his brain for the appropriate way to react. Explain to me HOW to give some Christmas and be PATIENT and I MIGHT just provide a bit of Christmas or so.

Secondly, these children are saying they NEED this Christmas and yet the way they convey this message doesn’t make it seem urgent enough to respond that minute. If a fellow walked up to me and started dancing and singing “I’m starving to death, I hate to be rude, I’m starving to death, could I please have some food?” I might clap, but I think he could wait for me to drive to the A&P and pick up a sub and diet delight peach for him… it wouldn’t be that VERY MINUTE. However, if I am to be subjected to the shrill requests of the children repeatedly I do prefer that they sing gaily rather than scream and moan.

There is a Christmas song for every aspect of the secular Christmas tradition. There are several about Santa! The reindeer! The snow! The sleigh! Snowmen! The Christmas tree! Hollyness! Jollyness! And Yule! What is missing!? What very obvious, prominent, recently-made-into-a-movie-with-Will-Ferrell subject has not been made into a renown Christmas song?!

Santa’s elves are almost completely ignored by songwriters… but it isn’t their fault. There are limitless possibilities to what and who such a song could be about but woe to the person that explores them.

You see, Santa is more than happy to show off his reindeer, his sleigh, and of course, himself… but he tries to keep a tight lid on the goings on in the toy factory. The main secret is that there are no elves anymore. If you happen to find yourself inside his toyshop, you would see short fellows with pointy ears… but they are dwarves… and the ears are fake.

The elves split from the workshop a few years before the wintery-santified Christmas aesthetic became popular. (This is why you never see images of tall pointy-eared fellows working on toys… ironically the Will Ferrell is the most accurate depiction of an actual elf in the movie…wait… no… that would be Mary Steenburgen) Working conditions in the shop remained constant throughout the centuries, however, technology and modern conveniences developed in the world around them. The elves demanded that Santa make things more comfortable for them (a reasonable request.) Santa then told them that since they seem so keen on new technology that he may replace them with machines (an empty threat as Santa did not have anyone to build these machines.) The elves stormed out of the workshop and attempted to travel south but froze to death after nearly 200 yards.

Santa was very upset and so he resorted to hiring dwarves. He glued pointy ears on them and told them that it would help keep them warm (these dwarves aren’t quick.) The unfortunate thing about dwarves is that they have a lifespan of only about 120 years (elves live forever as long as you don’t kill them.) Because of this, the cast changes constantly and for this reason alone it would make it awkward to celebrate a single dwarf and then have to report that he died.

As for the frozen elves… nobody knows! There is no record of what Santa did with the bodies (there were 600 of them.) Santa does not want any celebration of the “elves” or their activities for fear that it will arouse suspicion and this story make again come to light. It is a story at odds with the very spirit of Christmas.

Santa is a powerful entity and he has made sure that nobody hears of this by very shady means (Buddy Holley is said to have been working on a tune “Eddy Elf” shortly before his plane crash.) He wields godlike powers and should never be crossed. I am risking quite a bit by sharing this but I am well under his radar.

I want the world to know that I am perfectly capable of being jolly without the holly. Why must the epitome of joy and gladness be expressed through holly, little red berry things, snow, evergreens and several other things that some of us go an entire lifetime without seeing? Can’t joy be conveyed without the accompaniment of bells and trumpets?

I harbor much joy and gladness for the meaning of Christmas. Yet when one doesn’t show an appreciation for the green, the cold, and the tinkley… they are labeled “Scrooge.” I promise you, joy in abundance does NOT translate into such.

The green and red aesthetic is pushed on us throughout our lives in order to further solidify it as something nostalgic… something we NEED once a year. Think about it… when we were very young Christmas was nothing but joy and we were surrounded by red and green and there was a tree. Now, being conditioned in such a way, we feel that we need to provide the same thing in order for that euphoria to return…. But it is much like a junkie trying to achieve the bliss of their first high… it won’t happen again.

If a child cries whenever it is made to get a picture taken with Santa, it is only because they have developed an above-average sense of character judgment. I do not necessarily mean that the Santa they are being handed to is the bad guy, but I recall feeling angered by the fact that I had thought better of my parents before the incident.

You see…I assumed that my mom and dad would never willingly subject me to evil or dangerous things. My parents took care of me and shielded me from anything that could cause any harm. Then one day I was thrust into the arms of a giant grunting red thing with a long white beard surrounded by an arcane tinseled nightmare come to life. He wore white cloves that disturbed me because the only other fellows I knew of that wore such were doctors and I doubted this maniac’s medical credentials.

Horrifying as the big fellow was, what provoked all the tears from my eyes was the betrayal of trust. No longer would I allow my parents to push me about without them telling me where I was going. When eating meals I refused my food if I didn’t see it prepared. I made efforts to keep one eye open as I slept because I didn’t want them to throw some horrible thing on top of me when I was at my most vulnerable.

Did you know that those lovely red berries on all the holiday decorations are slightly toxic? They have been known to cause vomiting and diarrhea. Did you know that those pretty green leaves around those berries are sharp and will draw blood?

Holly is an incredibly hostile plant to have in widespread use as the base aesthetic aspect of a glorious holiday. Aside from its pretty looks, it is repellent to humans. However, birds enjoy the berries and the pointy leaves often protect hiding birds from predators.

What I am getting at is… If I visit your decorated home and comment that “Christmas decorations are largely for the birds…” I am not being rude but literal. Holly is a friend of birds is all. Just thought I would point it out.

I am allergic to Christmas decorations. Well… not new decorations, but there is only one brief moment in a fellow’s life when the decorations he surrounds himself with are less than a year old. A fellow should never expect anything that he stores in the deepest darkest corners of his house to not grow some form of mold on them while they lie still for an entire year. Unfortunately, this mold is my kryptonite.

I know that I’m not alone. This is the case for many people who shy away from Christmas décor. We are labeled “Scrooge” and to most of us that is fine because the sting of that label is much less than the pain we feel we’d cause if we were to say “I’m sorry, my body just rejects your decorations.” And so we mope about anti-socially… occasionally seeing one suffering the same and merely giving a look of acknowledgement of their plight. We don’t talk to each other around those who don’t share our pain because they then might ask themselves (or each other) “Why don’t they socialize with us?” creating even more potential conflict. Although we don’t speak to each other we appreciate the fact that others in the same shape are there because our only consolation is the knowledge that another is suffering as we are.

It is sad, but don’t be sad for us. I believe that because we suffer so during this time of year we experience an appreciation for the rest of the year that people who don’t suffer like us could never know.

The lump of coal… given to all the naughty boys and girls in lieu of a gift to show what their physical body would look like if it were subject to the place which naughty boys and girls ultimately go… a grim, yet effective, warning that aims to put children on the straight and narrow… or so I was told.

This aspect of the Christmas is a real injustice to an immensely useful ore. A fellow could receive worse! I have a feeling that Santa might have carried around lumps of various other things, but found that coal was found to be the most agreeable to transport.

There is a school of thought (made up entirely by me… hardly constitutes a “school” but such a word gives more weight to what I’m about to feed you) that when the lump of coal is placed wherever Santa decides to play it… Initially it is a diamond… but Santa tends to throw the laws of time and space out of whack and the diamond goes through an unintentional decompression process making coal (Richard Dawkins uses a similar scenario in an attempt to explain away God.) Why a diamond? It is a present for doing Santa’s evil work(play with the letters of Santa’s name…mmhmm.). Receiving a diamond is supposed to be like receiving a WalMart card worth $1 million. You can get pretty much anything you want with that.

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8th of several days of Christmas Malaise

by Casey Parish

I recall one week in kindergarten, shortly before Christmas, when the teacher had us all sit on the floor to watch a movie. Generally, when sitting on the floor, we had to sit on our designated numbers (I was number 11). However, that day she said we could sit wherever we wanted. This was exciting!

Our teacher had an innocent looking VHS tape in her hand and waved it around as she orchestrated the settling in for a nice movie. The lights were turned off and everyone was smiling. She popped the tape into the VCR and pressed play.

I wish I could go back in time to look deep within the eyes of the teacher and read her thoughts and observe her expression….

The movie started… an adorably big-eyed girl begged several passersby to buy some of her matches. The smiles began to fade on most faces, but I held on to mine because I held a hope that something magical was going to happen and we would find our way out of this deep well of despair that we had been cast into.

The little girl began striking matches and I knew this is when the magic began. However, the girl never made a fire… out of anything. Her grandmother just kept taunting her from beyond the grave, causing her to stupidly waste match after match.

“Why doesn’t she go into one of the houses, or even set one on fire?” I thought… but it was evident that such prudent thinking was destroyed by her grandmother’s enchanting visions.

Within a few minutes, we see a shot of the girl’s cold dead body.

I then knew why the teacher let us sit wherever we wanted. She knew that we would be sitting near our friends whom we would best share our misery with, and attempt to console each other. Unfortunately, the grim inevitability of death was revealed to us all and we didn’t care for company for fear that they might pass on.

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9th of several days of Christmas Malaise

by Casey Parish

Christmas is a joyous and pure holiday. Most objective individuals agree that it is children-safe and nice enough to bring home to your mother. This is why there should be no place for sexy Christmas music.

The ambiguously sexy Kenny G covers are fine. They seem to be appropriate for both a family setting, and more intimate ones (this is a tad unsettling, but it is all good if you don’t think about it that much.)

I will not pretend to know much about these songs, I am not going to do any research… but I know they exist. I happened to hear one on the radio that paralyzed me so that I could not change the channel. It was a Barry Whitesque version of “Away in the Manger” complete with seductive deep-voice monologue (the first words were “oh, baby…”). Now, it is one thing to perve up a traditional Christmas song… but to do it to a religious-themed song is extremely wrong.

I know it might hardly be worth bringing up, you probably haven’t been exposed to it. Just know that your ignorance is sweet bliss.

The Several Days of Christmas Malaise