Winter Constellations

It is early December, so perhaps it is a little TOO early for this observation, but I have seen very few trimmings this year. Though I myself have no intentions of trimming my house, nor ever putting up a tree, I have enjoyed trimming up in work. I put up a Christmas tree with my friends from work, and had great enjoyment twisting a stiff length of faux branch up the railings of the stairs.

Still, no stars twinkle in windows as of yet. The closest I’ve come to being moved by shiny lights was in looking at the actual moon one night when it was full, and eventually managing to make out its curvature, seeing it as a ball rather than as a flat circle. That pleased me a lot.

Maybe it’s the recession. Timers are hard, money is scarce. Electric bills are high enough without plugging in some shinies to no palpable end. But is that really the case? In bust times comedy profits, as people give of what little they have for a smile. Would that not hold true for Christmas decorations? Tinsel, if already owned, runs on observation. Are people simply miserable? Or are people deserting Jesus?

It is my guess that we are a more godless nation than even it is estimated. Certainly we are a hearteningly secular place, though some seem not to fully appreciate what this entails. Our publicly-funded school system is still upsettingly entangled with religious ‘teaching’, and too many hold on to an unquestioned presumption of higher power. I don’t think as many people as I would like are turning away from the gods. I certainly don’t think that if they were turning away, it would correlate with a decline in trimmings or Christmas decorations, and this is why I believe that.

Christmas is not about Jesus. A celebration within deep winter predates the Cruijff by many a year, and though Christians have tried to paper over these previous incarnations of the solstice, we can still see through. In fact, the baby Jesus’ mug has been plastered there so long the façade has begun to peel horrendously, and we’re left with a collage of diy disasters, a patchwork of Jesus, Santa, trees, tinsel, Coke, tradition, rampant consumerism and human solidarity. Of these only human solidarity really interests me, though I think consumerism may be necessary, and I certainly have no better idea; trees and tinsel can be pleasing, mind you, and Santa is quite good fun.

Jesus I’ve got no time for, especially not in his super-privileged baby form, and Coke is too sugary. Tradition is overrated, though often fascinating to consider.

So, are we lacking a festive spirit this year? Are we failing our human solidarity? Or are we poor, plain and simple? Warmth comes before shiny colourful constellations trotting predictable waltzes around the window frame.

Perhaps we are in truly dire straits.

Perhaps its just a little early yet for decorations.

The Three Wise Men (or How My Pedantic Literary Criticism Can Ruin Christmas)

This is how the story was told to me. Mary and Joseph went to Bethlehem, the was no room at the Inn and therefore they ended up in a stable. In this stable Mary gave birth to a baby boy: The Little Baby Jesus™. So far, so within the realm of the possible.

Meanwhile, however, a group of people were believed to be homing in on TLBJ™'s position. These were two distinct groups of people. The first group were shepherds, who'd been tipped off by an angel. From this we can deduce that this is now firmly a work of fiction, but nevertheless we shall continue. The second group were the Three Wise Men. Widely reported as having come from The East, these were three educated, worldly and rich fellows. They had been travelling far longer than the shepherds, having come all the way from The East, and rather than following the instructions of angels, these three were following a bright star. This may not sound like the actions of Wise men but you are underestimating the brightness of the star. Boy, was that star bright. Also, it must have been a Wise thing to do, because they are the Three Wise Men. This is known as a tautology, which in logical dialogue is a negative, but in Biblical thinking is a virtue. Also, when it is said that they were following the star, I don't think it is meant that they were using it to navigate by, as the story was told to me the star was actually leading them like an astronomical will-o-the-wisp. I'm not an astronomer, but I'm fairly certain that would be considered fairly kooky behaviour for a star to be engaging in, what with them being so far away and a lump of unconscious matter and all. Stars aren't known for their interest in human affairs, let alone feeling it imperative to lead three gentlemen to a baby in a stable.

However, I will allow for all this magick, and continue with the story.

Following the star, the Three Wise Men are led to TLBJ™. They have brought gifts for the infant, one each. These gifts were Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh, which are all fairly unconventional gifts, although the usefulness of gold is readily apparent. That is a Bloody Good Gift™. The Three Wise Men burst dramatically through the stable wall with a Jeet Kune Do flying kick, and doing headstands the three lay their offerings at foot of the manger, wherein lay TLBJ™.

Why did they do this? Who did they believe TLBJ™ to be?

They believed that He was the son of God. They believe that He is the King of the Jews, the redeemer, the Holy One, the Dude. It is with that conviction that they travelled so far, all the way from The East remember, and brought their thoughtful gifts.

They partied late into the night, and the second wise man really impressed with his bodypopping skills, that he had developed in The East. The next day, presumably, the Three Wise Men went home, and were never heard from again.

TLBJ™ grew up to be Jesus Cruijff, a carpenter. He was raised by his earthly parents, Mary and Joseph, presumably in an amount of poverty and hardship. No account is given of what the family did with the gold, frankincense or the myrrh. Presumably even a modest amount of these would have made a significant difference to the life of this little family, but nothing is said of it again. Perhaps Joseph had a nasty gambling habit, or Mary may have pissed it up the wall at the local tavern.

However, it is the Three Wise Men themselves that really bother me. These three were wealthy, educated and driven, after all, they had travelled far, from The East, in order to meet with TLBJ™. They believed this child to be the son of god, and yet after some preliminary gifts they bugger off for the rest of his life. Surely they must have had a vested interest in educating the child, raising him out of a life of poverty and hard work, ensuring that he lived healthy and well? He's the son of god for Cruijff's sake! Of course, I shouldn't question their wisdom, for how could they do something unwise, being Wise as they were?

So they disappear, taking no further part in the story, and Jesus grows up exactly the same as he would had he never been visited by Three Wise Men. It's almost as though the Christmas story was a standalone tale not meant to fit into the overall ark of His life story, almost as if this story of His birth was a Frankincense's Monster stitched together from the body parts of older messiah birth tales. I use the term 'almost' inaccurately there, what I really mean is that is exactly what this story is.

However, as we are often told, we have forgotten the true meaning of Christmas. With all the magickal sillies pulled out of the yarn, here is the true meaning of Christmas: A baby was born in a barn, and some people went to see him. That's a pretty naff meaning of Christmas. For it to really mean anything in a religious sense it has to be replete with all the magick, one dimensional characters and gaping plot-holes.

Luckily, Wintertime celebrations did not begin with the Jesus cult. As with so much in Christianity, Christmas is simply a re-tooling of something that already existed. But if we aren't celebrating the given bornness of TLBJ™, then what are we celebrating? Well, in the Winter, it is pretty dark, cold and miserable, atmospherically speaking. My impression is that at some point people started flicking the bird to the weather, saying "it is cold, it is dark and it is miserable, but I am with the people who matter to me, and I am going to be a cheerful fudge, even if it kills me".

Of course, in some parts of the world it isn't cold and miserable on Christmas, so I don't know what they're happy about. Oh, wait...

I like time off work. I like getting presents. I like spending time with friends and family. I think it's very important to have times set aside to reflect and recharge, to consider your life, and perhaps make modifications to the path you may have been hurtling down over the course of simply living through the rush of life. I even like silly stories, but not when they are taken seriously. I don't need a seriously silly story to justify the things that popularly make up Christmas, I think the holiday stands on its own merits, mysticism aside.

Greeting Cards

A friend and I have taken it upon ourselves to concoct a number of counter-greetings cards for the reason of comedy.  I am not hugely assured of my ability to assemble these subversive pieces, and as such I have decided to workshop ideas directly into a blog.  This foreword is more a warning that an introduction, it is to tell you that I am merely pumping out as many ideas as I can in the hope that a small number of them will stick.  They might be good, they might not be, let’s find out.

 

I’ll start by attempting some subversive, subversive Christmas ones.

 

On the front of the card there is a depiction of a snowy town, smoke puffing from chimneys like in the oldy-olden days, snow piled high on the houses, the gardens and the road.  Inside the card there is photograph looking into a car through the windscreen.  The windscreen is smashed and a woman lies splayed in the driver’s seat, with her face drenched in blood and badly mangled.  There could possibly be two little tykes in the back similarly disfigured, depending on how wrong you really want to make the card.  The text at the very top of the page would read: “White Christmases cause 1,000,000 RTAs.  Don’t bitch about the gritters.”

 

An alternative would be a card depicting a family living room, bedecked with christmas tree, stockings, trimmings, half eaten pie and sipped sherry, and excited children gleefully sprinting towards base of the tree, which is stuffed with toys, while sickeningly twee parents watch on from the doorway.  Inside the card read: “Jesus is the way, the truth and the life.  But we want presents, so screw the execrable oik.” (or maybe slightly stronger language, depending on the target audience).

 

A card depicting a green Santa shaking his fist and glaring out of the card.  The text inside reads: “I used to be green, before coca-cola got their filthy fucking mitts on my colour scheme.  Trust such an insidious corporation to engender themselves into the public consciousness in such a sinister manner.”

 

The front of another card depicts a near-naked Celt, with his hair spiking out madly, huge sickle in hand, ferocious grimace upon his face, charging at a turkey in order to tear it to pieces.  Text inside reads: “God isn’t real, Jesus isn’t a definite historical entity, christmas is a capitalist monster that eats away at your pocket.  But don’t worry because it’s all based on ancient pagan festivals anyway, so fuck it, go mad.” (I realise that Celts and Pagans may not wholly overlap, but I like the look of Celts so we’ll go with that.)

 

My final Christmas card has huge thick writing over the front.  It reads: “Important and Private for .  On the inside there is a picture of the child’s parents, and the text reads: “WE ARE SANTA”.

 

An idea for an anniversary card to a couple from a very religious background:  Picture depicts a family around a dinner table, all with sunken faces and dead eyes.  Text inside reads: Yes, your marriage has lasted a long time, religiously arranged marriages stereotypically do.  This is due to the repressive nature of your religious faith, and how it is reinforced in the wider religious community.  Does the length and endurance of your marriage make up for the fact that your soul has been destroyed due to the unfulfilling nature of your unhealthy relationship?  It is going to last forever and ever and ever and ever.  And ever”.

 

'Dear canvassing-religious-person, yes I have thought about god, at length in fact.  I have come to the conclusion that the idea of a god that is all-powerful and essentially good is a preposterous notion, given the inequality that is inherent in life on this planet.  There is no natural fairness, no natural justice, there is merely life, make of it what you can'.  Inside this particular card there would merely be the words ‘GROW UP’ printed in the very centre.

 

I am tempted to attempt a ‘sorry for your loss’ card to the relatives of a suicide bomber, although it would likely read ‘Congratulations’.  I won’t do that though.  Although I sort of just did.

 

Be my valentine, or else.

 

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

You don’t know me,

But I’m obsessed with you.

 

Your eyes are black,

Your eyes are blue,

The swelling around them,

Makes it hard for you to see,

That I love you.

 

I used to be a sailor,

So you’ll never untie those knots,

You just sit in my attic,

Peeing in my pots.

 

The roses are red,

Your face is a dull blue,

You sit there going off,

I’ll never go off you.

 

A card from a student to his/her parents.

 

“Yeah I passed, unfortunately due to the recession there are no jobs available and so I am going to have to sponge off’ve you until we escape this financial crisis.  Love you”.

 

Blasphemous, morbid, economic and ruinous to childhood, a bit of a hectic selection, I think that’s enough for a start.  I apologise if any offence was caused by any of my ideas.  If there was I guess my advice is: just pretend you didn’t read it.

Joyous Season, Friends Like These and a bit of Humph

To begin, allow me to wish you a Joyous Season.

If, however, you are reading this outside of christmastime, or indeed any joyous season, then please hold that greeting in reserve, and bring it out to mull over and keep you warm on any given joyous season that may occur to you in the future.

I have enjoyed Christmas Day this year, though it wasn't spent in a wholly traditional manner.

Having proceeded with the tried and tested 'Present Opening > Christmas Dinner > Family Time' setup, (it went well, as only christmas day can (or can't)), I proceeded to steamroller my way through Danny Wallace's 'Friends Like These'.

Having finished the book, and having enjoyed it immensely, I am now in direct conflict with my own eyes, which have decided that due to spending hours reading, they are due a bit of rest.  However, it is my belief that they are needed somewhat in order to complete this rather haphazard effort at a blog.

'Friends Like These' is an awesome read; human, endearing and funny, an excting and interesting attempt to stave off perceived the beige, drab normality of adulthood.  At least, that's my reading of it.  I certainly took heart from it's insightful and ultimately upbeat message.  I fully intend on filling my mental engine room with Danny Wallace's literary coal in the near future (though that makes it sound as though I am literally going to set his books on fire and just watch the flames flicker majestically, which isn't what I'm attempting to portray.  No.  I intend to read them).

I also recently came into contact with a televised episode of 'I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue', which I have only sporadically caught during my very few years of listening to radio shows, though each time I did listen to it, it was a delight.  Unsurprisingly then, the BBC 4 recording was no exception, providing a solid half hour of constant chuckling, which was quite painful, since I was striving to remain silent for the sake of the people sleeping in the house (every single person bar me.  And it was their house).  Upon viewing the tribute message at the end of the show, I was distressed to discover that the veteran, powerhouse of a Chairman, Humphrey Lyttelton, had passed away earlier this year (2008).

I was then pleasantly surprised to discover a documentary about the very man playing the same night.  I have no particular like or dislike of documentaries, but I found this one hugely wonderful, and the amount of both respect and love bestowed upon Humphrey Lyttelton by so many individuals, from quite disparate walks of life, was both surprising and incredibly moving.

I was also quite shocked at my own lack of knowledge, inasmuch as I was utterly unaware of the great man's musical background.  Discovering that an individual, who's work I thought I was aware of, is in fact far more famous for something altogether different was both wonderful and at the same time unsettling.

To be completely honest, I am slightly disappointed that I am not able to make an incisive point at the end of this, since I feel that both 'Friends Like These' and the selected life and works of Humphrey Lyttelton, compacted conveniently into an hour's worth of television, should have left me able to explain, or at least convey generally, the sort of feelings that they have evoked in me.

However, I find myself unable to express more than a feeble: 'I want to do good' sentiment.  Which is sort of like me kneeling at the feet of every human being that ever touched another human being positively, with the hollowed out cadaver of a giant kipper on my head, then rubbing the rotting guts of said kipper, which I was storing in my closed fists, into the shins of every single one individual.

In the absence of a meaningful message, I can only offer an intellectual IOU (an Ay-Ay Ow You) and the promise that eventually, if I am able to last half as long on this planet as Humphrey Lyttelton, I will say something, which may, in poor lighting conditions and in the right disguise, be able to pass for a meaningful message.  For now, I can only hope that we all do some good.  After all, it is the season for it.  Not that you should need a reason.  But it is the season for it.  Ho ho ho.