Friday
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12/21/06
Ho, ho... ho?
The holidays are a time of year that evoke so many very different things for people. Some, mostly children and the young at heart, see the holidays as a time of magic and wonderment. Others, curmudgeons and cranks alike, may have a slightly less sanguine view of the season. (Bah!)
I enjoy the holidays as much as the next parent, of course, and it really is especially fulfilling to do the whole Christmas production for my boys who are now old enough to appreciate the event for what it is, and yet are just young enough to still believe in the magic... at least a little bit. That said, however, as an adult it is also my responsibility to acknowledge and guard against the darker, seamier side of the yuletide season; namely that of Santa's dark side.
It is of course accepted scientific fact that some of our most "beloved" cultural icons are not at all what they seem. It is widely known, for instance, that clowns, with or without seltzer and custard pies, are far from being the purveyors of whimsy that they would have you believe. Indeed, stealing your eternal soul is, after all, the clown-beast army's true goal. So make eye contact with this clown at your peril, because if you do he will steal your soul in a heartbeat. Which he'll probably keep in that baby carriage. Yikes. And as long as we're at it, who in their right mind thinks that there's anything fanciful about marionettes? Especially creepy-organ-grinder-monkey-marionettes. Even more, what's up with Gene Wilder in a top hat surrounded by these disturbing little cretins? Oompa Loompas? More like manic little inhabitants of some Faustian nightmare if you ask me.
But anyhoo, back to Santa. I was saddened to discover this last week that old Saint Nick, who I had assumed was still a source of the true magic and wonder that is the Christmas season, is in reality no more pure of heart than an Oompa-sized marionette-clown wearing a snarling Dick Cheney mask. Yes, it was while I was perusing my favorite source for information, the InterWeb, that I came across an image of Father Christmas so unsettling that I had no other choice but repost it as a warning to all fans of big red bows and boxes wrapped in shiny paper everywhere. This Santa is, in a word (or, well, I guess its going to be three words, but you get the idea), Creepy Wraith Santa. Yikes again! Heck, I'm all grown up and even I'd have to change my pants if that Santa grabbed me.
Anyway, gotta go. I've got presents to wrap and some eggs to nog, and I still have to find a baseball bat to keep next to the bed just in case.
(And of course a Merry Christmas, Chanukah, Bodhi, Solstice, and belated Ramadan and Duhsehra from ours to yours!)
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|
12/21/06
Ho, ho... ho?
The holidays are a time of year that evoke so many very different things for people. Some, mostly children and the young at heart, see the holidays as a time of magic and wonderment. Others, curmudgeons and cranks alike, may have a slightly less sanguine view of the season. (Bah!)
I enjoy the holidays as much as the next parent, of course, and it really is especially fulfilling to do the whole Christmas production for my boys who are now old enough to appreciate the event for what it is, and yet are just young enough to still believe in the magic... at least a little bit. That said, however, as an adult it is also my responsibility to acknowledge and guard against the darker, seamier side of the yuletide season; namely that of Santa's dark side.
It is of course accepted scientific fact that some of our most "beloved" cultural icons are not at all what they seem. It is widely known, for instance, that clowns, with or without seltzer and custard pies, are far from being the purveyors of whimsy that they would have you believe. Indeed, stealing your eternal soul is, after all, the clown-beast army's true goal. So make eye contact with this clown at your peril, because if you do he will steal your soul in a heartbeat. Which he'll probably keep in that baby carriage. Yikes. And as long as we're at it, who in their right mind thinks that there's anything fanciful about marionettes? Especially creepy-organ-grinder-monkey-marionettes. Even more, what's up with Gene Wilder in a top hat surrounded by these disturbing little cretins? Oompa Loompas? More like manic little inhabitants of some Faustian nightmare if you ask me.
But anyhoo, back to Santa. I was saddened to discover this last week that old Saint Nick, who I had assumed was still a source of the true magic and wonder that is the Christmas season, is in reality no more pure of heart than an Oompa-sized marionette-clown wearing a snarling Dick Cheney mask. Yes, it was while I was perusing my favorite source for information, the InterWeb, that I came across an image of Father Christmas so unsettling that I had no other choice but repost it as a warning to all fans of big red bows and boxes wrapped in shiny paper everywhere. This Santa is, in a word (or, well, I guess its going to be three words, but you get the idea), Creepy Wraith Santa. Yikes again! Heck, I'm all grown up and even I'd have to change my pants if that Santa grabbed me.
Anyway, gotta go. I've got presents to wrap and some eggs to nog, and I still have to find a baseball bat to keep next to the bed just in case.
(And of course a Merry Christmas, Chanukah, Bodhi, Solstice, and belated Ramadan and Duhsehra from ours to yours!)
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