christmas

Not What You Think

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To begin, a very sincere apology to a dear friend who thinks this will be about Death. She was told to watch for it and “enjoy” it, too. What an idiot, I am. Who wants a post about death four days before Christmas? Stupid, fargin, icehole bastige.*

This post should be uplifting, upbeat, about love and happiness, maybe even with a few strong words about materialism.

Or maybe it should be about friends and family. Aren’t they the ones who uplift us, make us feel good, and make holidays so special?

Eh, maybe. Sometimes, I guess. Of the 73 Christmas gatherings personally witnessed, seldom was it with the same family and the same friends. A sad thing about the modern world is how families disperse, spread out, move, and then need to make herculean efforts on trains, planes, and automobiles to get back together for holidays. Why do we do that? Would a Star Trek transporter beam for all make it easier? It would for those who really wanted to get back, but do we all really want to go home for the holidays?

It’s also a tough time to consider income equality and homelessness. Nothing like a hundred presents under the tree to make you wonder where the homeless beggar the police just chased off his corner is going to sleep.  And what presents do billionaires buy for their families? Their own planes, trains, and automobiles so they can get home easier? Even worse, if you drew Elon Musk’s name in a Secret Santa party, what would you get him? Would he even show? And what would he give if there were no dollar limit?

But the saddest part of the holidays is who really gets forgotten: Jesus, the birthday guy. Name anyone who really knows and lives the teachings of Jesus and reminds others of His ways**. Would he accept a present? Would He*** accept it and re-gift to someone who needs it?

In years past the Christmas Holidays meant so much to us because it was time off from work, time off from stress, and time to give and receive gifts. All in all, good reasons for families to get together, good reasons for celebration.

But there are billions of people in the world who know nothing of Christmas and Jesus. Is that a bad thing?

The biggest mistake we make at Christmas is not remembering, not reading more, not learning, and not accepting the life-style Jesus set for us. Why is that? We can do small things in small ways to honor that lifestyle, and we can do bigger and better things if we are blessed with way more than we need. Who needs a new Lexus with a bright, red ribbon out in the driveway? Or a keepsake blood diamond from an African mine? And better, yet: why do we celebrate Christmas with advertisements like these?

As a very young man exposed to J.D. Salinger in the middle of the 1960s materialism/consumerism boom, “The Jesus Prayer” and “The Way of the Pilgrim” were read with great care…and with great effect/affect. Those of you who know both, think any modern world leader is aware of either? Wait, are you?

As for my friend, hope you liked this subject better than death.

*Again: from Johnny Dangerously, and Michael Keaton, 1984.

**Apologies to the very few who do know, and do–at least– try.

***Note the alternating H or h for Jesus’ pronoun. Can the world even agree on that?

Lets Have Some Pun!

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The New Year Resolutions haven’t been going so well. Let’s talk about them later, okay? The first week of the New Year has not been kind to mental happiness as upstate NY suffered though a “lake effect” storm where someone (Mother Nature? God? The Buffalo Bills?) dropped snow on us every day, and blew it around like drunken confetti. We are still under a State Of Emergency prohibiting “unnecessary travel”. I watched the entire debacle from The Chair positioned in front of my huge apartment windows and enjoyed every second of the first few days. Now, in Day 6, it is time for necessary travel. Anywhere.

One last thing, people sure are interesting (30 percent?). One guy brushed snow off his car (it’s a northern thing) in his shorts. It was 6 degrees out and he didn’t last long. Another decided “no necessary travel” was not “no travel” and rocked his car back and forth in a parking lot drift until giving up and not coming back for two days. People did all sorts of strange things and the snow removing machines worked round the clock. Mother Nature just sent more.

So for Christmas I got a book and, yes, I read a lot when the parking action was slow. A lot. The book is titled: “Learn a Lot While You’re on the Pot”, by Jack Haynes. Without breaking a resolution, I’ll just say as we age, bowel movements seem to-how to say this–take their time. It’s a senior thing younger readers will learn eventually, but Mr. Haynes has capitalized on that “slowness” to offer a tidy book about all sorts of things. It’s 136 pages on 5 million (I exaggerate) subjects so it’s not comprehensive as much as pithy in its prose. It makes it easy to finish a topic or two before…you know.

My favorite sections is entitled : “Best Puns and Wordplay”. Let the games begin with an obvious groaner: “I once gave a performance about it Puns. It was just a play on words.”

Some puns only work when they are typed: “My friend became a vegetarian, even after I told him it was a big missed steak.” Say it out load to someone and they just stare at you. Like: “Once you’ve seen one shopping center you’ve seen a mall.” Or: “Did you hear about the explosion at the cheese factory? All that’s left is de-brie.”

Some are better spoken: “The future, the past, and the present walked into a bar. Things got a little tense.” You may have to wait for that spark of recognition on that one, but it’s worth it. Or: “I told my wife to embrace her mistakes and she gave me a hug.”

Sadly, there are some clunkers: “What do you call fake spaghetti? Im-pasta.” Ugh. “My son says he’s friends with only 25 letters of the alphabet, He doesn’t know y.”

Related: “My daughter said that after she ate alphabet soup she had a vowel movement.”

I’ll end this torture with my two favorites: “It’s been a terrible winter for Humpty Dumpty. But at least he had a great fall.” And, maybe not so much funny as apt: “I’ve discovered that where there’s a will, there’s a relative.”

Crap. One more: “Did you here about the toilet that was stolen from the Police Department? The cops have nothing to go on.”

Hope this helped any of those who were trapped at home with themselves, or even worse, family. Just remember: “Don’t let anyone call you average. That’s just mean.”

Christmas. Bah, humbug?

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The time of year, the day of the year, when we are supposed to love and care for someone other than ourselves has passed. A Facebook post (yes, I’m there once a week) says this is the time of year to not be wanting more, but be grateful for what we have.

Scrooge that.

A sad side effect of the Trump Era (oh, God, not him, again) is people have lost the ability to be grateful. As Mr. Trump points out almost every day, the modern world is a mess, America is a cesspool of crime and liberal degenerates, and almost any issue at any level of government or humanity, is worth his time and nuanced criticisms. Please, it is NOT Trump’s fault he is this way. It is his supporters who encourage him, making it so hard to enjoy even the most universally respected time of the year.

Letters to the editor (at least in my hometown) are being submitted by the tubful from writers of all stripes but it’s easy to identify MAGA authors: everything is wrong and we need to “FIGHT” for change. One of the key MAGA points, as headlined by the Modern Republican Party Grievance Machine (MRPGM), is the “flight”, the “exodus”, the abandonment of liberal cities and states. Rather than accept as fact this whine, I googled (US Census Bureau) population levels for each decade all the way back to 1970. Please google it to see for yourself, but population “transfer” has not only been cyclical, but racial. The entire Northeast Region has lost about 2 million residents per decade since 2000. But so has the Midwest Region. The South Region has gained the most, 26 million (Florida 6 million alone, with 4.5 million new residents identified as Latino). What do these figures mean?

Facts are no longer the currency in social conversation. Pronouncements are. I hate to pick on Trump but he makes it so easy. In a mid-December 2024 interview about his new presidency, Trump promised to “drill, baby, drill” for more oil and energy independence. He must not know America is already the leading supplier of crude oil to the world and the Oil People do not WANT to drill, baby drill, but keep supply–and profit/pricing–right where it is. In fact, Big Oils are merging with each other to take advantage of “super” profits. So who is “drill, baby, drill” meant for?

Trump is not the first (or only) politician (or news organization) to lead voters around by the nose, but his public and strident mis-truths have nurtured a whole generation of American Citizens who believe what the MRPGM says, without thinking or reasoning. I seldom meet a Trump supporter who, in debate, offers facts. They parrot the MRPGM.

The facts are ignored not only because they are so complex, but because segments of the American population now want to believe, want to trust, want to live with out question. Just tell me what to think.

The sad, complex, nuanced fact is all modern politicians are bad for us, bad for the average citizen. Politicians (rare exceptions who prove the rule excluded) are out for themselves. How else to explain a proposed pay raise for Congress in the latest “Government Shutdown Crisis” negotiations?

I’ve said many times, it isn’t that Trump or any politician is bad. We have to elect someone and we almost always have to choose the “least worst” candidate. But that doesn’t mean we should adore him or her, and believe every word out of their mouths.

The blind adoration for a politician was always a danger but it has reached new heights with Trump. Much like the McCarthy Era.

Let’s hope Trump doesn’t grab our country by the you-know-what (REf: Access Hollywood Tape), because that’s exactly what it looks like he’s intending to do.

Let’s start a third party, The Collectively Skeptical, and see what happens.