The Puddle

First, they definitely start showing Christmas movies more than two weeks before Christmas, so why not two weeks after? Does it really have to get cut short like that? Second, I'm not actually late, I'm very early. I'm following the trend of starting to market things earlier and earlier. Go buy some decorations while they are still on sale.

There is nothing more sinfully fulfilling than meeting someone more awkward than you are. I may be painfully ill at ease among strangers, but I don't tell them about my collection of cancelled envelopes from exotic locales such as Kitsilano. This seems particularly relevant in light of all the used up christmas trees that seem to be mustered in rows at the ends of driveways.

Christmas is supposed to be about thinking of others less fortunate than ourselves. What would this really look like? You would spend the holidays in a drunken nihilistic misery over the apparently incurable perversity of existence. You would light the turkey on fire on your front lawn, arranging it in the posture of a monk. You would tear at your hair and writhe in your sleep, haunted by the guilt of your privilege. You would self-destruct in a frenzy of consumer politics.

Plum pudding stands as an immovable testament to the fact we don't really do this. One plum pudding could probably sustain a family for a week. What we do do is think about others, for a moment. An instant, really, before a certain triumphant glee in the face of an utterly arbitrary reality kicks in. It is utterly detached from anything moral, like the relief of the ninth soldier in a decimated legion.

We experience this every day of the year, such is the vicious nature of social reflection. Every interaction bears the possibility of this sense of relief, some sign or another that shows us we are better off, ahead of the game. It is only natural that over time these experiences pile up on each other until finally it all erupts into the carnival of consumption. This is probably a good thing, because if you don't put on those pounds you might not make it through the winter.

Ho Ho Ho!