Christmas Magic

How does a fat man get down a skinny chimney? Some of us barely fit through the front door! Well of course its Christmas magic. When you were a youngster anything was possible. The world was full of wonder, and excitement except when Aunt Gertrude came to town with her penchant for over-squeezing cheek pinching not knowing her own strength is a recognized vise grip, not to mention the uncountable whiskers on her chin! Then it was run for the nearest closet under the stairs and hope the family didn’t miss you during her stay.

As far as the true magic of the season, it rests in all of our traditions. Who can get through it without a couple of good size turkeys making the ultimate sacrifice? This of course is so that we can sit our overstuffed carcasses in front of an oversized flat screen plasma TV and nod off during special football games. Usually usual the teams are quite a pair; one superior display of talent against a group that plays like a collection of women from the Red Hat Society. Nevertheless the whole family laying about the hovel like they were a bunch of tired basset hounds back after a long day’s hunt is pretty typical. It’s sort of a Norman Rockwell meets the Beverly Hillbillies; picturesque but not exactly inspiring of Christmas’ past.

The erosion of the true holiday’s message, giving each other gold and frankincense (no one can seem to find myrrh anymore), has been gradual, steady and to the celebrity benefit of Mr. Claus. Here’s a guy who breaks into your home (breaking and entering), dressed in a red suit (fashion disaster), and not only does he not take anything, but he leaves you stuff (insanity). Of course in our materialistic society he’s going to be a right popular ol’ elf! His mode of transportation is also out of this world too (space alien). How does one get a gig like this? Work one day a year, give stuff away to the needy and the greedy, and be revered more than Brittany Spear’s silicone implanted trailer trash playthings: sounds like every youngsters dream!

As an adult of course things are a bit different. You become more jaded, cynical and the closets are no longer big enough to hide from unwanted hairy faced family. As a matter of fact people can get so swept up by the holiday so much so that they actually sit and talk with Aunt Gertie now pretending as if her face full of hair is not a good conversation starter. The magic may still be there and you can view it in the wonder filled eyes of your snot-nosed children; they’re sort of just like you use to before adulthood transformed you into a neurotic shell-shocked whimpering encasement of your former self.

The traditions are still wonderful though a bit more varied, diluted or disappointing. Stockings are still hung and by the chimney with care but mistletoe for instance, is something that’s no longer there! For countless Christmas’ as a child the “love bush” hung in the doorway so that when guests like Aunt Gertie with her face of stubble dropped by, she could righteously expect a lip smacking welcome. It was after all the closest she got to intimacy since Uncle Herbie up and perished in that mysterious backyard mineshaft disaster. All they ever found of him was his clothes and a little black book with five stars next to that mysterious girls name (Bambi), highlighted in lipstick. However, today when you need decent noticeable size mistletoe vegetation because there are finally some good looking neighbors worth planting one on to see if they offer egg-nog educed tongue action, you can’t find the stuff to hang up anymore. Santa doesn’t offer as many presents to adults either. The once hopeful holiday is now plays out with adults being screwed without a kiss.

Yet, despite it all we still find a quiet moment on Christmas Eve, usually at 4:00am after the last minute round of midnight madness shopping at the all night 7-11 (yeah, Slurpees and meat snacks for everyone’s stocking), and the wheezing from all of the rushing around has finally died down that we can reflect on the beauty of the holiday.

The Christmas tree blinks its silent message in the stillness as you reach to place the last of the presents under the tree before Santa shows up. Of course reaching under the tree with your face in the bottom branches sort of reminds you of kissing Aunt Gertrude and her pine needle whiskers. You may shudder, but it’s the chill of that ol’ hopeful feeling. You see if you look hard enough some things don’t change throughout your entire life whether its prickly facial encounters or the roundness of a fat man in the room on Christmas. The presents may be smaller and the joy a bit more tempered yet there is magic is waiting to be rediscovered!

Mystery of Electrical and Gas Shortages Unveiled

If you own the power you own it all! Anybody who ever reigned supreme in a game of Monopoly can tell you that it’s true. That is unless of course you play some new version of the game. You know the new editions that have diluted the financial message of the early 1900’s board game whose only purpose now is to exploit your pocketbook by way of your emotions. Today on the market there’s foreign language monopoly, Barney I Love You” monopoly, Dukes of Hazard monopoly and even University monopoly. The college version is useful in to making NCAA schools worth going to as undergraduates stay up all night vying to see how they can meld some form of monopoly into the wild, carousing, over drinking college lifestyle that Universities have come to represent.

Nevertheless owning the power means you are king! That seems to be the sentiment of many in this country who look at the high cost of gasoline and electricity. The good old days are gone; you know the ones with block long lines waiting for a fill up and the rolling blackouts inflicted upon California. The good old days? Heck yea! Then even though there were shortages your gallon of gas was still well below a dollar a gallon. There was much whining then because we don’t like to wait for the goods and services we feel we deserve. We’ll pay through the nose just don’t make us wait! Witness as proof of that any Bridal Gown discount sale. The outlet, at great risk to its very infrastructure, will sell thousand dollar symbols of purity to women who’ve had more sex than Heidi Fleiss on a slow night; for about a dollar ninety eight! This creates a stampede akin to a cattle drive gone awry as typified by a bad John Wayne movie. The virtuous young ladies attack each other to get the garment of their choice that they’ll wear for a total of four hours. The whole ruckus is an affair that reminds one of Wreslemania on a rainy Saturday night in Alabammy.

Now there are no gas lines but we’re approaching the cost equivalent to a gallon of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. Put some Chunky Monkey in your tank and see if that’ll make your motor run! Still with exorbitant costs there is barely a whimper out of the public’s collective mouth. If they could figure a way to make Hagen Daz combustible we’d have another energy source for about the same cost.

The West Coast blackouts were a different story. In 2001 and 2002 darkness could reign down upon your home without much warning jut like nightfall! Panic stricken people reacted as if it were the stone-age during a solar eclipse. People ran trembling through the streets as if the sky was falling and the gods were mad at them. On top of that tension prices spiked to ridiculous amounts per kilowatt hour similar to the cost of hair darkening grease during the Reagan administration. Of course certain energy companies and high government officers were in on the shenanigans. Then to top it off California is saddled with Arnold The Governator. Someone has been pulling pranks on the costal states ever since. The most popular comment at a Schwarzenegger political speech is Huh? What did he say?

Many people complained that we are restrained in that we have plenty of product but no way to refine petroleum and turn material into electricity (without charging a gazillion dollars per unit). That of course is so energy company CEO’s can drove around in bullet proof limos. What do you think they are afraid of anyway? As long as they stay in the limo smoking their big fat cigars made from illegal Cuban tobacco and rolled with American hundred dollar bills they won’t have to worry.

The refinery shortfall premise does have some merit. I have my own theory however. It is not that there isn’t enough petroleum, gasoline or electricity. It’s not that our refinery capacity is lacking. It’s not even that evil conservatives have a hand on the lever of such power and another one in my back pocket.

Have you ever driven past a field that has high tension power lines? The towers stretch in pairs across roadways, grassland to the horizon and beyond. They always look exactly the same no matter where you find them! My hypothesis is that this delivery system is simply not enough to carry the glut of that has built up behind the mysterious bottle neck of energy. I surmise that there is only one set of power lines and they go around the world! Each time you see a set in a field realize it’s the same ones you saw across town, in another state, near the zoo, or in any number of Ultra Man episodes and Godzilla movies! They all look alike, they all stretch in the same direction and they are not enough to carry the world’s energy.

There are some positives to this situation. If you are ever lost and you run across a power line field, if you follow them toward the horizon eventually you will find your way home or at least to a location with which you are familiar. The illusion is that many of these lines are stretching criss-crossing the country delivering all of our electricity. In reality there is only one set of towers erected by some guy named Mort. He of course has been subcontracted by your electric company to give the impression that they are everywhere. You hardly notice. The only person doing well outside of limo bound fat cats is Mort. Nobody knows why this lowly electrical worker has yachts, Lear jets, and his picture on a box of Wheaties. Now that his secret is out I bet you won’t be able to find his picture on cereal boxes anymore!

Take time to look carefully the next time you come across such a field and you’ll find they always run in the same direction. Clever Mort, but not slick enough to fool the watchful eye. You may have fooled us in the past but with prices going out of site your shrewd tactics have been discovered. How did you ever think you were going to get away with it?

What could possibly happen next? Will power lines cease to carry the glut of electricity those power brokers are sitting upon? Hardly. As long as the power is in the hand of a few guys the power lines will stand as picturesque as a symbol (like a stature of liberty) to the wealthy. Isn’t America a great place to live? It is especially true if you’re a big-wig, a guy named Mort, or Godzilla!