aspects of christmas. a list.

we shall set about making a bullet-ish, pointed list of the various aspects of christmas. with the full knowledge that the list may well end up comprising all of our thoughts on the matter, as opposed to the prelude it's intended to be. as we have spent the week translating early development research papers into copy for an audience who deems usa today rather off-putting for its complexity, bullet lists do not count as a cop-out:

+ how we really wish santa would bring us a new pair of pants.

...honest. other than a laptop, pants and some of those nice smartwool socks are what we want most. we prefer not to linger on the whens and whys of our turn toward sickeningly practical wishlists. tis uncomfortable to consider for any length. (though would be significantly less uncomfortable, were we wearing a nice pair of dockers smartpants.)

+ how Elf is the best christmas movie of the past 21 years. how we know two people--neither prone to emotional flare-ups in public--who CRIED at the end of it. the end of Elf.

+ why the appalling, stomach-turning testament to consumermate midland american orthodoxy that christmas has become neither appalls nor turns our stomach.

...not that we really enjoy it. but okay, fine, we can deal, for a couple of facts: christmas is our only national day-off religious holiday, and if we are to be collectively obligated to observe the anniversary of a jewish couple spending the night in a barn then we deserve to have the observation reflect some sort of collective sense. --that said reflection is provided by the Sharper Image Funhouse LT5050 may be uncomfortable, but is no less telling. if christianity is to have one of its (few) major holidays sacrileged, christmas isn't so big a loss. christmas isn't what the deal's About, anyhow: if not for what happened on easter, the events of christmas could be chalked up as a sort of aren't-we-feeling-fancy-today whimsical episode on god's part ---- let's set the scene with as much blue/brown-collar pathos as possible, then, bam! down swoops the regal chorus of angels, cue the sparkling star stage left, followed closely by the unlikely-yet-persistent triage of queer magi for the straight guy. sans the delectably consequential sacrifice of easter, christmas just wouldn't matter.

+ how i always thought my stocking looked better hanging from the mantle than either my brother's or sister's.

+ how any more than a modicum of eggnog results in drastastical anal outbursts.

+ how i forget this each year.