Call me an old Christmas Poo if you like, but every day and in every way I'm becoming more sympathetic to this thing. I'm all for recognizing the passing of the Winter Solstice and I have nothing against the Christly celebrating the birth of their boy (which happened in September, as near as we can tell). But when a huge inflatable mechanical snow-globe, 12 feet tall, North-Pole-themed and costing $150, appeared in a prominent place in my local grocery store this August (I swear to Mithra) I began to experience a nausea that's been building ever since.
Christmas has an obvious powerful pull. It's just one hell of a brand, to borrow a term from the marketing pukes who foist the damned thing on us every year. You can't get much more of a positive association in the mind of your average 18-to-50 with a solid credit rating and a decent job than good ol' Xmas. Its core appeal is Gemütlichkeit, the sense of being warm and safe and cocooned away from the raging elements. Sounds a bit infantile, frankly -- don't you think?
So what better thing to associate with your vibrating crotch-razor/sugar water/gas guzzler/dreadful beer/unreliable cell phone service/pointless electronic device/behemoth home theater/flimsy personal accessory/terribly ill-advised low-rise jeans/crash-prone computer/crappy golf clubs/fraudulent dietary supplement/dubious financial instrument?
(List compiled by me this morning -- each item represents a Christmas-themed advertisement that I saw either online or while out for lunch.)
And how better to measure the health of our retail economy than by carefully gauging with the Dismal Science's finest calipers the exact intensity of Black Friday's orgiastic wallowing in the mudbath of consumption? It doesn't look good, Bob -- I've only sold 85,721 home theaters the size of a fucking Bradley Fighting Vehicle to maxed-out-on-three-credit-card lower-middle-class goobers today, that's down from 85,984 this time last year....
The day we just banish Christmas gift-giving: That will be the day we've grown up, mes amis. That will be the day we throw off the shackles, off the pigs, turn in our badges, resist the temptation, drop the bullet, bite the big one, scrabble the toe, twist the acorn, jimmy corn the crack, bob for the twinkie, addlepate the mooncalf, Jabba the Hutt and remember the Maine.
I was going somewhere with this... Where was I going?
So who's gonna tell my kids? Any volunteers?