The Insufficency of Humbug
Irradiated by Stingray
Astute readers may have noticed the calendar creeping steadily on to the most magical arbitrary date of the year, Christmas. That splendid and magical time of the year where we all still hate each other just as much and are just as pissed off as any other time, but now we have to pretend that everybody loves each other, peace in our time on earth, good will towards that rat bastard man, etc.
I suspect my position on the matter has grown clear already, but let me just hit a few of the high notes that grate with particular vigor on my sanity starting any time after Halloween.
To start with, let’s address the music. I am firmly of the position that if the music is so fucking terrible that it is only acceptable once per year, then it’s probably a good idea to just skip it then, too. There are of course excuses and cop-outs. After all, there’s a long tradition of utterly insipid crap being wildly popular, such as Raffi. Raffi, however, is targeted at a group too young to realize that the proper response to such music is unabashed violence. Their parents know this, but have to listen to it anyway. This, in turn, supports the hard liquor industry, and I benefit from that, so crap like Raffi gets a pass. Christmas carols, on the other hand, serve no useful purpose other than to inspire rage and hatred. The night would be a lot more silent if you wailing dupes would shut the fuck up. I have no particular inclination to cavort about in an open sleigh when I have a truck with this remarkable little device called a heater that will cause the trip to suck several orders of magnitude less. The little boy with the drum can just go sit on those drumsticks- aside from the saccharine message of the whole thing, what sort of retarded jackass starts banging away on a drum like Keith Moon in front of a fucking newborn? As for the classic and thus clearly intellectual “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies,” I’ve reached the point where I feel applause is the correct response should anybody take it upon themselves to shove an oboe up the player’s posterior sideways and then use the combined entity to set fire to an oboe factory. Possibly also a small cash award and commemorative plaque.
Next up, we have the charity groups. “HELP PEOPLE IN NEED! HELP PEOPLE IN NEED! I’VE GOT A FUCKING BELL AND I’M GOING TO MAKE SURE YOU KNOW BECAUSE THIS BELL IS TOTALLY AWESOME!! YOU CAN STOP GIVING A SHIT IN JANUARY BUT MY MAGIC BELL OF MIGRAINES COMPELS YOU!” If any budding investigator would like a piece that would surprise literally dozens, look into the financial relationship between tylenol, aleve, and those jangling assholes stationed on every street corner, grocery store, and shopping area of any kind. I know I boost those company’s stocks during this time of the year, and that incessant clanging cacophony is why. Eleven months out of the year the hard up and downtrodden can go piss up a rope, but then magically after the fourth Thursday in November it’s CARE O’CLOCK, BITCHES! Look, let me actually make a helpful suggestion. You want to separate me from my loose change so Ray-Ray the System Gamer can have an extra target to score dope money from for a month? Then give me some incentive do do anything other than leave the area as quickly as possible. Instead of standing there acting as the fucking Headache Fairy, hire some girl with big tits to stand in the cold topless and demonstrate just how awful things are if you can’t afford a coat. I guarantee you, if you take that route to fund raising for charity my reaction absolutely will not be contemplating how many possible ways there are to kill a man with a small hand-held bell.
Moving right along, we have the ever tacky seasonal clothing. This one falls under the same category as the music: if it’s that awful, just leave it in the closet. Parading around in that stupid polyester Santa-cap doesn’t make you look festive and jolly, it makes it look like there’s a fucking epidemic of brain-eating parasites parading around disguised as haberdashery (although cold-activated brain parasites would go quite a long ways to explaining the bullshit rampant in December). Think that sweater with the light-up Rudolph nose is just the bee’s knees? Let me ask you this, has battery operated clothing ever had even the slightest shred of dignity, taste, or even just been free from giving the impression that the wearer is a tacky jackass? No? Then why does wearing one with a fucking alcoholic caribou suddenly become a good idea? Marching around sporting a smiling ice golem on your sweater/gloves/coat doesn’t do anything positive for you either, other than serve as a helpful advertisement to people like me that we should avoid the shit out of you- if only you’d let us, instead of glomming on to anything that doesn’t look like it’ll commit suicide within five minutes of your inane “Isn’t this time of the year WONDERFUL?!” speech. I saw an older couple in the grocery store the other day wearing matching holiday sweaters, and wandering around with such an inane expression, the sweaters were the only indication that they weren’t on powerful hallucinogenics, and frankly, I’d prefer to be around geezers tripping balls instead, because at least then one might be a WWII vet and give a kick-ass demonstration of how to clear an enemy tunnel.
Finally, to wrap things up before I find myself mad enough to go strangle a Santa with his own shitty fake beard, let’s turn to the scourge of holiday advertising. There are two approaches to this noxious blight, and both are vile pits of festering bullshit, attempting nothing more than turning the entrenched tradition of what used to be a perfectly healthy and decent blood sacrifice to make the sun come back into jangling cash registers (next to the fuckwad with the bell, of course). The first is the school favored by Mars candy, specifically M&Ms, to make one commercial and then stick with it, ’cause if it was good enough in 1995, it’s good enough now. I don’t know who was originally responsible for the campaign in which two brain-damaged anthropomorphic candy pieces confront a delusional home-invader dressed in a pimp suit, only to have everybody faint in shock from either hallucinating two brain-damaged anthropomorphic candy pieces or from confronting a delusional home-invader dressed in a pimp suit, but I have a coil of barbed wire, two gallons of gasoline, sixteen rolls of duct tape, five lemons, and a year’s worth of back issues of “Cat Fancy” with their name on it. Should be a pretty good party if I ever catch the son of a bitch. Mars is not exclusive to this approach, however, and I’m sure everybody out there has their own individual “Oh, fuck. It’s time for that ad again,” but no matter how you slice it this lazy pile of bullshit is as certain to invade our homes as a liberal is to be a pussy about… well, anything really. The other school is to trot out a new ad each year, and while this at least earns points for not being as patently and obviously phoned-in, the downside is that each year the company feels it must top last year’s ad, leading to greater and greater levels of blistering obnoxiousness. The Gap and Old Navy are the current kings of this school, each year running a campaign that turns into a contest of wills to see if they can actually make me get out of the house to find them and destroy them, their parents, their children, their siblings, and anyone else I can find with even one genetic tie to the creators of the ads. So far this year I haven’t seen Fran Drescher in any commercials, but I suspect they’re saving the big guns until I’m closer to snapping. Honestly, if your Great Marketing Idea is to use Fran Drescher for anything other than a reactive target, you are a fucking idiot and you need to be separated.
I like my friends. I like doing nice things for my friends to indicate that I like them, such as sending gifts or well wishes. Upon the collection of seasonal traditions for December ranging from mildly embarrassing to murderously infuriating, however, it is my sincerest hope that the sacrifice fails, and the sun never returns so that every last polyester Santa hat can freeze in the dark for eternity.
Humbug.
December 9th, 2009 at 6:05 pm
Deep breaths, my man, deep breaths…
December 9th, 2009 at 7:00 pm
I am in very strong agreement with you there. Anytime during the holiday shopping season when I am cursed to be in a retail environment, I have to remind myself that strangling the fuckers is not actually an acceptable response.
The following is not a good combination: cranky northerner + nashville + holiday season…
Rar. I loathe christmas music. Retch.
December 9th, 2009 at 7:04 pm
I would offer cocoa and a candy cane, if I did not strongly suspect that that exercise would end with my fleeing at high speed and shots being fired.
December 9th, 2009 at 7:17 pm
“Parading around in that stupid polyester Santa-cap doesn’t make you look festive and jolly, it makes it look like there’s a fucking epidemic of brain-eating parasites parading around disguised as haberdashery”
Now I know what to get you for Christmas!
December 9th, 2009 at 7:40 pm
That was just…Awesome.
I had tears running down my face I was laughing so hard.
December 9th, 2009 at 7:46 pm
In my mind there are only two acceptable Christmas songs: “The Rebel Jesus” and “Fairytale of New York.”
Extremely well crafted rant, by the way. “Parasites disguised as haberdashery” and “it’s care o’clock, bitches” have been catapulted to my #1 and #2 favorite lines of the season.
December 9th, 2009 at 8:05 pm
Geez, don’t sugar coat it, tell us how you REALLY feel
And yeah, Drescher is ONLY good for a reactive target…
December 9th, 2009 at 8:29 pm
Stingray, that’s one of your finest rants, and I’m going to cross-link it at BRM.
However, not all of us regard Christmas in that light . . .
http://tinyurl.com/a3uzmd
Spare a thought for folks in such situations, will you? There are many parts of the world where that sort of thing is still the norm, and the ‘commercial Christmas’ you hate simply doesn’t exist.
December 9th, 2009 at 10:05 pm
Many years of working retail have polished my hatred for this alleged holiday to a lovingly burnished sheen. In fact, one year when I was hurting for a paycheque, I was a mercenary in the Quasimodo-for-caring brigade. You would think I was constantly moving around to stay warm, but I was also attempting to get away from the infernal tinkling.
Your rant is a thing of infinite beauty.
December 9th, 2009 at 10:13 pm
A damn good rant, with which I concur heartily. It6′s why I avoid shopping centres at this time of year like they were strewn with toxic waste..
December 9th, 2009 at 10:19 pm
You forgot the “bah”
Having just returned from a company Christmas “party” I’ll nominate that as the thing I hate most about the “season”.
December 9th, 2009 at 10:38 pm
i’m with Trini .. I had tears streaming down my face as I enjoyed your rant.
December 9th, 2009 at 10:49 pm
A most excellent rant on what has become little more than the crass commercialization of the christian corruption of a perfectly good pagan holiday.
December 9th, 2009 at 11:57 pm
Aha, so I take it you’ve read “Hogfather”?
December 10th, 2009 at 12:49 am
I don’t care what you say, Stingray, I still believe in God, Christmas and the Christmas Spirit. I feel the same way you do about the commercialization of Christmas, which is why I don’t buy into any of it. I went to Catholic school and became so disillusioned by all the hypocrisy that I became, not only an atheist, but an anti-God bonehead. Throughout the years of personal strife, I came to let God back into my heart and at once, I felt inner peace that I had never felt before. I don’t believe in organized religion by any means, but God is always and forever and will always be my saviour.
December 10th, 2009 at 2:14 am
Ask Santa for some Prozac. Your friendly neighborhood psychiatrist might also have something for you.
Please lock your ammunition separate from you firearms.
Perhaps the ringing reminder to give a shit has your brain panties twisted in a wad. Give the freaking bell ringers a few dollars and your headache won’t be near as severe.
December 10th, 2009 at 6:20 am
The night would be a lot more silent if you wailing dupes would shut the fuck up.
I reckon we should hang out sometime.
…how many possible ways there are to kill a man with a small hand-held bell.
I reckon the pragmatic solution would be to hit him with it.
Celebrate the season for its original intent, I don’t care, just don’t push it on me.
Jim
December 10th, 2009 at 8:01 am
You do realize Santa’s gonna shit down your chimney for this, dontcha?
December 10th, 2009 at 8:05 am
Rather! Commercial Christmas is a remarkably horrid creation and (if I let it get to me) somewhat offensive, since either the original Christian or the original pagan celebrations were of solemn and, yet at the same time, ecstatic triumph.
The music is possibly the worst, especially since I happen to enjoy correctly sung choral music and carols. Pretty much everything that is piped out is not correct, not in arrangement or pitch. Four part harmony? Never heard of it. To be fair, genuine carols are some of the hardest pieces of music to do well, since their development is in a musical tradition with which most of us have little familiarity (i.e. four or more part church choirs, which are direct descendants of the medieval processional/plainsong musical styles). And any popular Christmas tune written post WWI is just plain awful.
December 10th, 2009 at 8:31 am
Wow! That’s some rant there. Yeah, we Christians co-opted a pagan holiday. And then retail turned it into some kind of noisy hell. And the hand bells. I do hate the bells.
But I’m with Wai here. That crap isn’t what Christmas is about.
December 10th, 2009 at 9:57 am
One lump of coal for Stingray, coming up.
December 10th, 2009 at 10:22 am
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTGlUMvbhSw
Weird Al Yankovic – The night santa went crazy
December 10th, 2009 at 10:48 am
Hey Eek!: Why don’t you go fuck yourself seven ways from Sunday and then toss your Kringle-besotted ass in a wood chipper?
December 10th, 2009 at 11:56 am
It’s why they invented on-line shopping. seriously, other than the trip to work and back; between Thanksgiving and New Years I don’t leave the house.
December 10th, 2009 at 12:43 pm
Dashing to the mall
in a fleet of rented trucks,
a million hairless apes are out
to spend some plastic bucks.
It’s Christmas time again
(or maybe World War Three)
and to keep the spirits happy now
we’ve got to kill a tree.
Oh, kill a tree, kill a tree, kill a tree for Christ
(Jolly old St. Nicholas, accept this sacrifice!)
Kill a tree, kill a tree, kill a tree for Christ:
Not sure what we’re doing, but it seems to work out nice.
We each deserve a ton
or two of shiny crap,
but to keep the goodies coming now
we’ve got to spill some sap.
And string electric lights,
and raise the ritual star,
and bribe our friends and fam’lies to
forget what jerks we are.
And kill a tree … (etc.)
We always kill a tree.
That’s always been enough
for videos and GI Joes
and all that kiddy stuff.
But Mommy wants a Hog
and Daddy wants a boat.
That’s prolly gonna cost at least
a chicken and a got.
But kill a tree … (etc.)
(Lyrics mine. Tune, not so much.)
December 10th, 2009 at 12:45 pm
Bleyeagh.
On the third line from the last, ‘got’ should be ‘goat’.
Frackin’ tpyos.
December 10th, 2009 at 12:50 pm
To actual Christians: what’s being ranted about here has damn little to do with God from where we’re sitting. Don’t take it as an insult to your faith, take it as an insult to the giant rolling ball of accumulated flaming cultural stupid that’s built around one holiday of that faith.
JBrock: a thing of beauty despite the typo.
December 10th, 2009 at 1:18 pm
JBrock: awesome
LabRat:No offense taken. Got a good laugh out of it actually.
December 10th, 2009 at 3:07 pm
My thoughts about Christmas time exactly. Had to link to this and share a work of art.
December 10th, 2009 at 9:31 pm
*slow clap*
December 10th, 2009 at 10:32 pm
One other thought to show how retarded we are: Blindly accepting the idea of putting the busiest travel season… in middle of f*ing winter.
I reckon until that changes we’re all fit for the Ark Fleet Ship B.
Jim
December 11th, 2009 at 8:43 am
No offense taken, Labrat. I thought it was hilarious, and couldn’t agree more, especially ‘care o’clock’ and those #**$! bells.
December 11th, 2009 at 11:57 am
You didn’t offend this Christian, and the comment about the Little Drummer Boy was priceless. Back when I was a kid (and it wasn’t so long ago) in Port Huron MI, the SA would get a couple brass players to play carols in front of the bucket , which was a lot easier to take than the bell. I’d be willing to volunteer for that duty. The only thing I ever saw recently that came close was some guy singing soulish versions of carols.
The noise is so out-of-sync with Advent. We’re waiting for God to come…the first time, and again….because we want Him, not because we want Him to smite the Muzak to Hell. Not that there’s anything wrong with that…
December 11th, 2009 at 12:48 pm
@SB7: I nominate this song as well
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qE4sg1ygTqg
December 11th, 2009 at 2:20 pm
BRAVO!
I’m gonna read it again.
To all you Christians: It ain’t about belief, it’s about dogma. One man’s dogma is another man’s belly laugh, or outrage, depending.
To Stingray: I’ve worn out (literally) the “mute” button on several remote controls. There are lots of commercials I recognize on sight but have never heard. Go thou and do likewise.
December 11th, 2009 at 7:42 pm
Stingray,
DAMN. I haven’t seen a rant like that since Denis Leary went after, well, anything. The man can rant. Anyway, great one! Laughed like hell.
BUT.
JayG gets the One-Liner Of The Year award.
With perlhaqr coming in with a close second.
I’d say Merry Christmas, but I’m afraid you can find out where I live;)
tweaker
December 11th, 2009 at 9:20 pm
That was some good snark right there.
December 12th, 2009 at 1:48 am
Gotta say, Ray, that I agree in large part.
Chaff to wheat ratio approaches vertical asymptote, particularly in the 20th c entury music.
Hate the season, but gotta love the kid that came with it.
Sincerely (and completely without irony)
Merry Christmas and God bless
Your friend and Fan,
JC
December 12th, 2009 at 3:36 pm
@ JBRock: Priceless
This was the funniest **** I’ve read in a long time. I was tempted to do a video set to “It’s the most wonderful time of they year.” The inspirations struck me as I was standing in line at the post office to mail off my application for grad school and took a glance back at the ever growing line behind me filled with miserable faces, tapping feet, and people looking like they were ready to mount the tower and start firing off rounds. Oh yeah most wonderful time of the year my ass….you are dead on stingray!