Each year at exactly this time I marvel at how we American humans march in a robotized obeisance to the commercialized Xmas drumbeat. Without fail. Without so much as a thought, we get sucked into the maelstrom of rank commercialism that knows no bounds. And we dust off the perennial issues, e.g. the secularization of Xmas. That’s right, Xmas! So sue me. The usual mindless faux and contrived issues such as whether it’s “Merry Xmas” or “Seasons Greetings” or — Gawd forbid — “Happy Holidays.” The music starts earlier and earlier and I swear, nothing puts me in a bell tower mood more than hearing the same old tunes. If I hear Burl Ives demanding that I have a holly, jolly Xmas one more time, somebody’s going to pay!
And as far as Xmas tunes go, my favorite is Greg Lake’s 1975 hit “I Believe in Father Christmas” with lyrics by his King Crimson band mate Peter Sinfield. It says it all in my book.
Hallelujah Noel be it Heaven or Hell
The Christmas you get you deserve.
Finally, I discuss the absolutely insane idea espoused and promoted by No Labels. Look, the idea that rancor and incivility infecting political discourse with fire-breathing polemics should be avoided at all costs is a great idea. But let’s not forget, political discourse and comportment today look like a cotillion compared to that of our forebears. That being said, with a slovenly and torpid electorate, I fear anything encouraging more collective sedation. I marvel at the folks in Europe who when angry — and I certainly don’t countenance violence — actually get off their butts and march.
Happy Whatever, one and all.