Another Holiday Tirade

Every year, we find ourselves victimized by the same Christmas stories, songs, and whatnot, and there are a few things whose timeless appeal I don't understand.

Let's start with "Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer", the animated version of which I found myself watching on Wednesday night. First, anyone who knows his history of retail knows that "Rudolph" was written for the purpose of retail: it was created for Montgomery Ward.

Then there is the subject matter. No one liked Rudolph until he was needed. What a lesson to teach kids who sing this every year: you are persona non grata until you are of use to us; then you can go away.

Then there is "I'll Be Home For Christmas", which is, for some reason, a staple on holiday radio as well. If you listen to the lyrics carefully, it is about someone not being able to come home for Christmas. How depressing.

And don't ask me how "My Favorite Things" from Sound of Music became a Christmas song.

But one story (this year, at least) is really irritating me, and that would be the lovely, uplifting tale of the Little Match Girl. In the original version, there is a line about how her father would beat her if she came home instead of being out selling matches, so she plods around barefoot in the snow. She lights matches to warm herself, has hallucinations, and then freezes to death. This takes place on New Year's Eve, but it seems to be lumped in with Christmas.

Let's see. Some little girl would rather freeze to death wandering around town than face her abusive father. The father is pimping his daughter out, only interested in how much money she brings in, not caring about her well-being. Merry Christmas, y'all! Daddy better learn how to sell those damn matches himself, or (hopefully) in the sequel, he gets arrested for child abuse, child endangerment, and involuntary manslaughter, and spends the rest of his life getting reamed in the ass by his cellmates.

Hans Christian Andersen had one fucked-up imagination.

The things I come up with at this time of the year surprise me. But I have only thirteen shifts to go until Christmas. Then it will be done.

Eric Out.