The Countdown continues; Christmas is getting closer! Today I have, not one, but two poems — both “politically correct” parodies of familiar seasonal icons.
The first Way-Back link is a new look at the The Night Before Christmas and Santa’s woes in a consumer-aware world (worse than his woes with physics). The second picks up the next day with The (Politically Correct) Twelve Days of Christmas. (Both are neolithic email “shares” from the ghost of Christmas Past.)
And now fun — and funny — Christmas tunes…
Some of you are back to work today; some of you took the week off to relax or get ready. Time is short, so get any last minute requests to Santa before it’s too late! (For the record, I have never written a letter to Santa. My parents never played the Santa Trick on me or my sister.)
The theme is Dear Santa (I Want), and the Way-Back link is to another neolithic share. This one containing two missives for Mr. Claus, one from a Ms. Barbara “Lawyer Barbie” Mattel (of the South Beach Mattels), and one from a Mr. Kenneth “Doll” Mattel (of the less well-to-do Redondo Beach branch).
And now, a set of secular seasonal selections…
After an analysis of Santa’s physical parameters, we’re still curious about the Claus. Does Santa, in fact, have claws? They would certainly help with chimneys. A question of quite some interest is: Does Santa have sex (in the biology class sense)? If so, ♂ or ♀?
The Way-Back link is to Santa: Man or Woman? It’s my only small claim to fame on WordPress — it’s the only post I’ve had Freshly Pressed! (How ironic it wasn’t a piece I actually wrote. It’s another fax or email “share” from the neolithic era of technology.)
And now, more music…
As one might guess from yesterday’s post, which was supposed to be about vampires, that the geek force runs strong in this one. Of course, it always does. Far as I can tell, I was born an über-geek and shall remain an über-geek until my final breath (which will no doubt be some geeky observation).
But then geek comes from “carnival geek” and just means someone with expertise in a niche field. I’m fine with that — it’s just the plain truth in my case — but I like to believe my expertise is maybe just a little bit broader than biting heads off chickens. (On the other hand, as perhaps everyone does, I’ve sometimes wondered if joining a carnival might not make for a much simpler life.)
In any event, for a while I intend to indulge my inner über-geek.
The cow just jumped over the moon, I saw it!
Of course, by ‘cow’ I mean International Space Station (ISS), and by ‘jumped’ I mean swung smoothly over a period of several seconds (ssoposs). And by ‘moon’ I mean—you know—the Moon (M).
For a space geek (and I should think, really, for any oxygen-breather), it was kind of thrill and a nice cap to Christmas. (I’m indebted to my friend, Jeff, who called moments before to let me know! It was way worth standing out in the 12-degree chill!)
And speaking of famous old poems, to commemorate my FP present from WP, I’ve done a brief riff on the opening stanzas of an old favorite…
December is a dark month. It has the shortest day of the year (thankfully behind us now), and it comes at the end of a string of months—six of them—where the days have been getting shorter and shorter. By now, many of us drive to work in the dark and drive home in the dark. And for some there is snow and ice as well.
Sounds like a good time to throw a huge, everybody’s-involved, party! (So add all the present purchasing and party preparation to the mix with the cold and the dark.)
Hopefully at this point the work is behind you and it’s all fun for the next two days. As we wait for the party to start, here’s another politically corrected version of an old favorite. In this case, that poem about the night before…
So now we’ve established that Santa Claus is a magical being possessed of unknown gender, amazing abilities and a stable of cryptofauna. We can be thankful such a powerful being is not just friendly, but apparently an annual giver of gifts (at least to those who have been “nice” per this being’s magical “list”).
Certainly a large portion of the Earth’s children—held in thrall to this unknowable annual alien—have sought his favor by sending him petitions through the mail. (The word is that His Jolliness has agents planted in postal services throughout the world to intercept these missives.)
Even the famous plastic couple, Barbie and Ken, have felt the pull of this fur-trimmed creature lurking at the top of the world…
Having previously established that Santa has to be magical (because the laws of physics prohibit a real Santa accomplishing successful toy delivery), we can turn to the question of Santa’s gender. One might question this on the grounds of Santa’s apparent historic maleness, but in counter I offer George Sand, Mulan and any number of Shakespeare plays.
One might also question this on the grounds of gender perhaps not applying to magical creatures, to which I reply that Hobbits, Elves and Dwarves seem pretty clear on the matter (although one can never really tell with Dwarves—all that hair and battle armor are quite concealing, and it’s poor form to actually ask).
In any event, like all “news” programs these days, I give you now, two opposing views on the matter of Santa’s gender. You decide.
The next few posts are from a collection of Funny Emails I’ve gathered over many years. They come from a time before email was common—a time long before social media. Back then we didn’t have the vast onslaught of material as there is now. The online world was much smaller, slower. And because the Era of the Image hadn’t arrived, the funny emails were usually just text.
A “pack rat” by nature, I saved those that really tickled my fancy. That was possible (and sensible) then; these days there’s too much to save, and one can count (more or less) on it remaining in place “out there” if you need it again. (That in itself is an amazing thing: we live in an era of an online, free, permanent information resource.)
I’m starting off with one of my very favorites: an examination of the implications of assuming Santa is real…