On Christmas

“There’s a certain time of year

When the world has a special glow

Children’s laughter I can hear

From sleigh rides in the snow

And while everyone’s heart is light

All across the land

One thing I know tonight

I can’t stand it, man!”

~ ‘I Hate Christmas’, by Ren & Stimpy, produced by Ed Mitchell

from the album “Ren & Stimpy’s Crock O’ Christmas”, 1993

It's nearly Christmas!  A time of cheer and goodwill and peace on Earth and family and... and...

Humbug. Bah, humbug.

It's not like I didn't try.  Did the Christmas shopping thing, battled the thundering hordes of cars scrapping over the last parking spot and beat back the ravenous consumers and their hyper-charged, low-interest credit cards at a large suburban shopping centre in search of that special gift for those dozens of special some ones.  That's the done thing at Christmas isn't it?  You buy cheap stuff for people who don't really need whatever you get them, and in return you get cheap stuff you'd already own - if you really needed it.  It's the curse of the Kris Kringle.  

Of course the kids want stuff too.  It's expected.  Not just any old junk you picked up from The Reject Shop either.  It's got to be something nice.  No, scratch that, that ‘something nice’ should be a plural 'cause one gift just won't cut the mustard.  One of my kids was thoughtful enough make it easy for WonderWoman and me, she left the junk mail out with the appropriate gifts circled and a loose page with a running tally of prices, neatly added up with an obscene total at the bottom.  The other dear child went a step further and cut all of the expected gifts out and even offered to go through them with me.

In all fairness, I think they were more 'in a perfect world' wishes than demands, but still, there is this heaving expectation of the "done thing" that hovers around Christmas like blowflies around a steaming pile of excrement.

Speaking of steaming piles of excrement, did you know that in the Catalan culture, they traditionally construct complex nativity scenes over the Christmas period the way we put together Christmas trees?  Tucked away in an unobtrusive corner is a caganer, a small character bent over in the act of defaecation.  There is some conjecture as to the origins and purpose of this curious little fellow; some say he signifies the common amongst the extraordinary, in a parallel to the central theme of the nativity; some believe he is a substitute for all of Earth's various peoples who, without exception, need to tend to this particular act; some argue that he is a kind of naturalistic symbol representing various aspects of fertility; others presume the caganer is merely a humourous aside to entertain children and simpletons.

Speaking of the nativity, let's address the ongoing tension between the religious aspects of Christmas and the commercial.  I can appreciate the sentiment behind the reminders that "Jesus is the reason for the season", but the honest truth is sadly far different.  As distasteful as the thought is, the crass commercial demands of Christmas have overtaken the spiritual remembrance and ideals by a wide margin.  When did you first see Christmas themed products in the supermarket?  If you're anything like me it was in October.  Early October, for the love of Pete.  How long after Boxing Day do you think it’s going to be before we see chocolate eggs?  It's sickening.

We need to keep a couple of other salient points firmly in mind.  Much like the moronic celebration in Australia of the Queen's birthday (and the associated public holiday), Christmas day is pretty much accepted as having little resemblance to the actual date of Jesus's birth.  Furthermore, the bulk of the traditions observed around Christmas day have been cribbed and bastardised from various pagan festivals, traditions and celebrations over the ages.  Essentially, one of the big two celebrations on the Christian calendar has more pagan connotations that we choose to admit.  Fancy that!

And a word to those that decry the abbreviation "Xmas" as removing the Christ from Christmas ought keep in mind that in Greek, the letter X (chi) stands for Khrīstos (Χριστός), or Christ.  So X or no, Christ is right there the whole time.  Perhaps Christmas can be a time of no abbreviations, and the elimination of the dreaded apostrophe, the curse of On Writing Blog first drafts every damned week.

I participated actively in carols this year, to try and give my Christmas spirit a much needed boost.  One of my favourite carols keeps the insanity of all that Christmas has become firmly in mind - The Twelve Days of Christmas.  Seriously, what kind of psycho gift giver gives you ten lords a'leaping?  Where exactly do you find eleven pipers piping, and does Australia Post deliver them?  Did it occur to anyone that by the end of the song the recipient of all these "gifts" will need to feed fifty people? Perhaps one could feed them any of the twenty-three feathered beasties also named in the song, but let’s face it, they're not going to go far.  Have you seen how much meat is on a partridge?

Just a few short days ago, Michael Bublé very nearly rescued Christmas for me.  Nearly.  While channel surfing I happened upon a carols show hosted and mostly performed by Mr Bublé.  I personally find Bublé a charismatic and entertaining performer, possessing genuine talent and a sense of self-deprecating humour that is right at home on Aussie TV.  I enjoyed the first few songs.  As the program progressed, I noticed something was awry.  Bublé spent quite some time wishing the audience the best of the season.  Then it hit me: he was continually wishing everyone the horrendously politically correct "Happy Holidays".  Christmas barely got a mention, although Hanukkah did.  It begs the question: if the word Christmas is taboo, why the merry heck are you bothering with Christmas carols at all?  Then Bublé revealed the final insult: guest star Justin Bieber.  Not being a vacuous eleven-year-old girl, and not having any holidays I could deem "happy", I switched off.    

I found but one highlight this Christmas.  WonderWoman and I spent some money on some Oxfam gifts on behalf of others.  The way it works is this: instead of buying gifts for one's kith and kin, you pay Oxfam the money you would otherwise spend on family or friends, which goes towards something worthwhile for those who need it a considerable amount more than any of us.  This year our hard-earned went towards filtered water pots in the Philippines and a women's refuge in Papua New Guinea.  Our attempt at genuine goodwill.  Glad to know there are some Christmassy things no amount of caganers can soil.

**To follow the On Writing Blog on Facebook, click HERE and click the "Like" button**