The silly season is in full swing. November 24th
and Christmas tree lots have sprouted like toadstools -- across the street in
the County Bowl parking lot, at Earl Warren Showgrounds, Lane Farms, and
Orchard Supply and Hardware in Goleta; jolly Christmas music is already playing
on at least one local radio station; and of course the TV is littered with
sappy ads.
The older I become, the more this time of year annoys me. The
holiday “season” now begins before we store the Halloween decorations, and
approaches warp speed weeks before we attack our turkey with a sharp carving
knife. Black Friday is treated like a national holiday. Commercial media whip
the gullible into a frenzy with promises of cheap flat screen TV’s, blenders,
toaster ovens, iPads, tablets, popcorn makers, cell phones, non-stick cookware,
gourmet coffee makers, espresso machines, electric can openers, toys,
electronic games, laptops; everything marked down and in stock, today only!
Fucking madness is what it is. No sane person pitches a tent
outside Wal-Mart three days in advance of Black Friday, in the hopes of saving
$100 on a new TV. The entire spectacle is ridiculous and disgusting, infantile
and embarrassing. Whatever meaning these holidays are supposed to have is bled
dry by crass commercialism that becomes more sophisticated, insidious and
hysterical every year. By the time Christmas Day rolls around, many people are
too exhausted to enjoy it.
OK, I admit, I’m a crank. Anoint me king for a day and I
would decree a law prohibiting any Christmas, Hanukah or Kwanza advertising,
sales, paraphernalia, music or hype prior to December 1. Fines would be severe,
and repeat offenders would be stripped naked and forced to collect trash along
Interstate highways. Nothing ticks me off like hearing Jingle Bells on the
radio on November 23. Stop trying to manipulate the public, you greedy
bastards; stop trying to stretch the season beyond all reason; stop trying to
separate nitwits from money they don’t have.
Holly, jolly, o’ holy night!
The holiday season is one continuous assault on my senses
and sensibility. Bad enough the religious hoopla – the virgin birth in a manger
of Christ the king, the three wise men, the guiding star, the camels, donkeys,
sheep and whatnot – but when the fable of Saint Nick and his magic reindeer,
his industrious elves (who must all be Chinese by now), the North Pole, insipid
holiday parties, false good cheer and phony good will are tossed on the heap, it’s
all I can do not to lock myself in a room and switch off the lights, hibernate
for a month.
My wife and I floated the idea of not bothering with a tree
and all the trimmings this year, but our daughter freaked out at the prospect
of foregoing the rituals she adores, so once again we’ll shuffle through the
motions, haul the decorations up from the garage, overpay for a tree, break a
few ornaments, wrestle with strings of lights that don’t work, search in vain
for extension cords and ornament hooks, and that Bing Crosby CD…
It’s not that I’m opposed to celebrations of faith or
gatherings of family and friends. Excess is what I’m opposed to -- the crass,
meditated manipulation of a religious holiday for the sole purpose of commerce.
Here’s to my fellow cranks – I know you’re out there, in
cities, towns and hamlets – giving the middle finger to all that is false and
contrived about this season of holy nights.
No comments:
Post a Comment