Some Thoughts on Christmas in America

Some say it's bad enough that one has to show up at the airport ridiculously early so as not to tempt the Fates of Tardiness - having to go through pre-boarding check in, having your e-ticket inspected against your passport, being pre-inspected by Homeland Security, having one's body and carry-ons scanned for bombs, inspected again for boarding pass, and inspected again by Homeland Security before being waved on like so much human chaff in the wind of airport staff nonchalance.

I can handle all that... I just went through it moments ago... BUT...

As I sit here in LAX after arriving from a month-long business trip to China, my ears and my mind are assaulted by torturous tones most heinous: Christmas music.

Now, that I cannot handle!

Do they use Christmas music as a means of torture at the Bush Hilton in Guantanamo?

CHRISTMAS VS. THE OTHER HOLIDAYS

Easter is okay, with its pagan-era fertility rite imagery such as bunnies and eggs.

Halloween is the best, with vivid Death-as-Usher to end all things no longer useful to us.

Thanksgiving is great, too - to blunt Death's keen scimitar edge after slicing us open during All Hallows Eve. One should be thankful to be alive and to have this one-time chance to make a difference. The chance that is life itself. Yes, by all means, be thank-full!

WHAT BECAME CHRISTMAS?

But Christmas (originally Christ's mass)?

It is no longer the celebration of the salvation that makes the one-time chance actually happen - the one-in-a-million miracle to seek the "peace on earth" that others so oft speak of during Christmas time.

WHAT BECAME OF SANTA?

Instead, Christmas in the public spaces of America is exactly what assaults me now in this airport: An offensive and incessant barrage of sickly-sweet music - a sensorial attack of advertisement upon one's self and self integrity.

Not only is there just one song, but many. They seek to divide your universe (literally "uni-verse" - or "one song") into many so that you will never know good from bad, right from left. And in the end, you bought all the toys and gizmos to appease your misguided ("miss-guided") self, and you have the credit card bills to prove it.

In the end Christmas divides you, instead of unifying you.

WHAT BECAME OF SANTA?

The commercial barrage is a quagmire designed to befuddle even the most stalwart. My goodness, even Santa himself has fallen victim to the stress of holiday commercialization! How?

Competing directly with a growing knowledge of non-Judeo-Christian holidays such as Kwanzaa and the Chinese Chun Jie, along with online shopping and free UPS shipping, Santa and his band of eccentric wart-nosed elves are fast getting pushed out of the gift-making and -shipping business. Classical North Pole hits like wooden trains (for little boys) and button-eyed rag-dolls (for little girls) have been phased out by iPods, Wii, and Hanna Montana paraphernalia.

And what of Santa (an anagram of Satan) himself?

Instead of the original svelte image of the simple Lapland reindeer-man he originally was, we see billboards abounding with images of Santa for what he is: a guy wearing a ridiculous red (some would say blood-soaked) suit. With ruddy cheeks, a bulbous schnozzle, and a fat waistline (no doubt from a distended cirrhotic liver) - all obvious signs of blatant alcoholism - Santa is the sledge-driving booze tippling diabetic we see today.

With Santa as the role model victim for others to follow, no wonder the barrage of media-gonorrhea leads to Christmas-time sadness.

BACK TO THE BASICS

The air we breathe is free, and the words we speak through the ethers costs only the time and intent through which we speak them.

And the wonder of the spells we cast with our spoken words!

A parent can either raise up a child to the heights of bliss through words of encouragement, or utterly destroy her or him with a few harsh cruel words. As a former child myself (now one again), I can attest to the power of words.

Likewise, the words we speak to others and ourselves (prayer) can work the wonders of healing, or words (as a curse) can wreak the iron bars of the prison-hell that are the minds of the saddest people.

Of the few things that set us humans apart from other creatures are the fact that we speak words. On this note, let us rejoice in hidden treasure so aptly placed benath our nose: the hidden meaning of words - something which we may truly carry with us wherever we trod.

Have fun!