"They're putting up reindeer, and singing songs of joy and peace"

I discovered the musical equivalent of Die Hard being people's favorite Christmas movie: Joni Mitchell's "River" is one of my favorite songs to hear around the holidays. It's not a Christmas song; it's a song about sorrow over a breakup that happens at Christmas. But like Die Hard, its setting is clearly Christmas, and like Die Hard, it uses a Christmas tune in a minor key to set the mood (in this case, phrases from "Jingle Bells").

It's not a Christmas song, but it's such a large part of my holidays, and such a counterpoint to the prevailing sentiment, that it's easy to mistake it for one. And sung beautifully tonight, as always, at Glen Burtnik's Xmas concert in New Hope.

Rob

Ninja Pine

The other night, we took down our Christmas tree. It was a good tree, possibly my favorite of the ones we’ve put up since we moved in to our house seven years ago. A full body, and branches that could hold a lot of weight—perfect for some of our heavier ornaments, which meant they didn’t all get clustered at the one level of branches that were up to the task.

Anyway, the tree spent a night on the curb, and it has since been taken away. But before that happened, we needed to spend some time taking all the lights and ornaments down.

This isn’t as simple as it sounds. Because there’s one ornament—a little evergreen tree—that knows how to hide. That special place you put it when you’re trimming the tree, that you’re sure you’ll remember once January rolls around? Forget it; it’s gone. It swings from branch to branch like a little pine Tarzan, finding the perfect spot to hide. It’s the Moby Dick of Christmas tree ornaments, something you hunt for until it drives you mad. Hopping mad, if you’ve got a peg leg.

In a way, it’s the last tradition of Christmas season… a little game of hide and seek we play with the tree. Eventually, we find it, tucked under a branch, using a nearby jingle bell as a distraction. By that point, nearly all the ornaments are off, and the tree is free to go. But on its way out the door, the big tree leaves a thick layer of needles on the floor… just in case the little tree ornament wants to hide again.

Needless to say, we sweep those bad boys up right quick.

Rob

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Spiraling, at Glen Burtnik's Xmas Xtravaganza. Merry Christmas, everybody.

Rob

So This Is Christmas

Tonight, weather permitting (and so far, it looks like it just might permit), we’ll be going to Glen Burtnik’s Xmas Xtravaganza, an annual Christmas concert Kathy & I have been going to since our second date back when the world was young. It’s a great time, which I’ve written about before, and promises to be one again.

It’s also the real kick-off of the Christmas spirit for me. I always enter late in the game, but this concert always warms me up in a way that’s just perfect. It makes me remember the True Meaning of Christmas, in all caps.

Now, my True Meaning of Christmas might not be the same as yours. For one thing, there’s a lot less Jesus in mine. No one knows when Jesus was actually born (although some astronomers claim is was June 17), but it’s fairly commonly agreed that the December 25 date is commemorative, rather than an actual anniversary. The date itself is arbitrary.

Except it’s not. Not here, anyway. We’re heading for the shortest day of the year, and we’re in for two or three months of cold and darkness. Snow and ice and nasty weather threaten to strike at any time, messing with our well-laid plans and isolating us from our friends and family. The beginning of December sees us staring down a meteorological crapquake, and the warmth of spring seems unimaginably distant.

So we need Christmas now. Whenever Jesus was born, and whatever he ultimately means, we need Christmas on December 25, to help us be brave enough to face the cold and dark. To give us some twinkling lights to see, and hearty songs to sing.

It’s time to make our own warmth. It’s time to gather with loved ones, and express how much they mean to you. It’s time to enjoy cookies and fruitcake and big honkin’ hams. It’s a good time for bourbon, it’s a good time for stout. And more than anything, it’s a good time to smile at a stranger, and wish them a Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy New Year, whatever. It doesn’t matter what you wish for them: just make a wish. Maybe next year will be better than this one, and maybe it won’t. But we’ll all be going through it together, and there’s nothing wrong with huddling together for warmth.

Rob

Internet Update

Google Images isn't the only game in town. Undaunted by my earlier failure to track these two guys down, I tried Bing, and I came up with these two images of Jingle and Jangle on the first page of results.


And having settled that matter in my mind, I hope to forget about Christmas for another 50 days or so.

Rob

So I guess this is a recurring dream. How 'bout that.

My impression is that recurring dreams are ways the subconscious addresses issues that the conscious mind is unable to face. But, having had this dream twice now, I have to say I'm at a loss for the deeper meaning.

A colorful, do-gooder style ocean vessel (like a Greenpeace ship) pulls up next to a U.S. battleship. Two young men--a gangly blond man and his stocky, curly-headed friend, are escorted from the hippie ship onto the military vessel. They're led far into the depths of the battleship, where there is a room with sound baffles on the walls, and all the equipment of a mobile recording studio. And there, under executive order of the President, they will record the vocal tracks for a recently uncovered "lost" scene from The Year Without a Santa Claus. These two guys were the closest to the hapless elves, Jingle and Jangle, both physically and vocally, and the project could not be delayed.

I have had this dream twice, under two different Presidents. Both want more Year Without a Santa Claus.

Rob
(And as an aside, a Google search turned up only one, thumbnail-size, photo of Jingle and Jangle. The Internet has failed us on this most basic of things.)

You, Mii, Us.

My mom completely surprised Kathy & me -- and everyone else in our family -- by giving us a Wii for Christmas yesterday. We've spent some of the time playing Wii Sports -- Kathy kills me at Tennis and Boxing, but Bowling and Baseball are my games. (Golf is anybody's bet.) But when we're not playing games, we're making Mii characters -- the little avatars you can use to play the game.

So far we have one for Kathy, one for me, and a few celebrities: Heatmiser, Snowmiser, Sarah Palin, Sluggo and Bob Ross.


Happy trees, my friends. Happy trees.

Rob

Tis The Season

Merry Christmas, everyone. And for Rao's sake, don't stay out in the cold.

Rob

If You See This Man Over the Holidays...

...make damn sure he plays "O Come All Ye Faithful."


It will knock your head clean off.

Rob

Satan's Little Helpers

I was browsing around on Google Images and I stumbled across this little gem:


As wrong as it is, the fact that we're only 8 days from Christmas makes it even wronger.

Rob
("Wronger" may not be a word, but it's the right word, dammit!)

Common Sense Prevails

I just spoke with someone at the NY Department of Labor. Since it's my first notice, I can come anytime during the next week without loss of benefits.

Which makes me doubly happy. First, of course, I can spend Christmas with the fam. And second, I always get a little giddy when people are considered more important than rules, even in little ways like this.

Rob

Injury? Meet Insult!

You know what's nice about being laid off over the holidays? At least you have time to spend over the holidays.

Unless, that is, the fuckers at the unemployment office send you a letter for a MANDATORY two-hour meeting in New York City on the day one of your families is actually celebrating Christmas.

There is no fucking upside.


Rob
(Oh, and the letter? On Grinch-colored paper.)

Because I Promised

Here's to you, Greg!

Rob

Meme of the Secret Ten: All You Can Eat!

The Meme of the Secret Ten continues apace -- with a new entry from Travis, who breaks the Mighty Ami Monopoly! Travis writes:

2 and 9 open up a restaurant together. What kind of rest.? What is the name? What else can you tell us about it?

And I scratch my head and ponder.

Obviously, Margie Gunderson (#2) likes a nice smorgasbord. It's in her Nordic blood. They give ya a lotta good stuff ta eat, ya?

The trouble is #9, her partner. He's a bit of a sourpuss. It comes from feeling neglected his whole life. After all: No one wants a Charlie in the Box!

So Margie and Charlie get together to open a big buffet. Margie is really the first person (other than a reindeer and a short little kooky dentist a long time ago) to give Charlie the time of day. (Did he lose his legs in the war? she wonders. That poor, poor, springy man.) Charlie, grateful for the partnership, decides to name the restaurant after Margie. "You're such a super lady," he says. "We should call it SuperLady's Smogasbord!"

But Margie, super lady that she is, refuses to take all the credit. She insisted they install a drive-thru window where patrons can have their orders freshly pulled from the buffet and paid for by weight. The entire operation goes by "SuperLady's Smorgasboard and Charlie's Box Lunch."

Scout's honor, that's how it happened.

Rob

(And remember -- there are still five characters left unrevealed! There's still time to play!)

That Most Holy of Days

Have a Merry Monkey Tuesday!

Feliz Monkeydad!

Rob

Hallelujah, Everybody Say Cheese

Another favorite Christmas song: "Merry Christmas From the Family," by Robert Earl Keene.

Feliz Navidad!



UPDATE: I should probably mention that I enjoy the Jill Sobule version of this song better. I think it's the quality of her voice: She sounds more innocent, while Keene sings with a smirk. He seems to stand apart from his family (and maybe that's an impression I'm drawing as much from the video as the song itself), while Sobule just shrugs her shoulders and joins in.

That said, when I sing the song, I hear Graham Parker in my head. I don't think he's ever covered it, but I'm sure he'd do a stellar job, and wouldn't go easy on the bitters. "We need some celery and a can of fake snow," is a line practically custom-made for him.

Rob

I turned my face away, and dreamed about you...

The Pogues & Kirsty MacColl, singing one of my holiday favorites. And yes, that's Matt Dillon in the video.



I really do love this song. The shouting and anger cloaks a genuine affection that the singers can't quite express. There's so much regret, and when the early hopes are revealed, it only magnifies it and makes it beautiful.

Rob

Ho Ho Hurrrkkk!

A nice little train ride home, at 10:30 last night. I caught one of NJ Transit's fairly new double decker trains -- a rare treat for me. Plus, I had new comics to read; always a plus. And there were some tween girls a few seats ahead of me, every now and then singing Christmas carols, but not being obnoxious about it. They wore reindeer antlers. It was nice.

Then, as the train stopped in Newark, someone either stepped onto the train and started vomiting, or just sat there and started vomiting. However it happened, we couldn't see him; we could only hear. Loud, heaving...um, heaving. The entire upper deck of the train cringed as a single unit.

Eventually the heaving stopped; the people would could see out the windows said the guy was escorted off the train.

As we got moving again, the conductor walked up into our car, and said "I bet you all could hear that."

"The whole train could hear it," someone said.

"Well, I'll say one thing for the guy," said the conductor. "He sure chews his food well."

Rob

Hoo-Rah for Illness!

Stopped into a meeting today. Dropped 1.8 pounds in the last two weeks. That's the empty weight of this US GI-issue tactical load-bearing vest, although who knows how much it would weigh if it contained enough pixels for a decent resolution. But in these last weeks, I've enjoyed Thai food, turkey-stuffing leftover sandwiches, a street-vendor hotdog with mustard and relish, and, just yesterday, copious amounts of peanut butter and a late-night bowl of ice cream (for the sore throat, naturally). And—oh yes—several of your Christmas cookies. So I can only chalk this up to a little bit o' sick, and generally having internalized some decent eating habits. Which is good news, any way ya wanna slice it.

Also: I finally flipped the odometer, with my weight going into another range of tens. Meaning I lose a daily point per week. Now that I'm back on the horse, I oughta take that seriously. (shudder)

Rob

To Our Dear Friends and Family,

Even as you read this, I am most likely stealing one of your Christmas cookies.

So sorry!

Warmest Holiday Wishes,

Rob