BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Okay, I admit it. I read Reuters Oddly Enough news… Actually, it’s not so much news as it is a mini blog that takes somewhat odd news stories and showcases them… Or, relatively normal stories and puts an odd spin on them… Whatever seems to work at the time, I suppose. Especially if it’s a slow news day. (You know, things just aren’t the same as they were back when I was studying Journalism, but that’s another story entirely…)

So, anyway, back to the lecherous, filthy elf… One of the “Oddly Enough” features on 12/10 was a list of links to odd holiday tales. As with many blogs, comments are allowed and beneath this one there were three, two of which lamented the fact that when they were kids, Christmas was about the Church and not Santa…

Well, I could wax prophetic all about how they are a bit misguided since Christmas is actually a hijacked holiday known as Yule, and that it really occurs on the Winter Solstice. That, and the fact that there is overwhelming evidence that Jesus – divinely conceived child of “God” or not, doesn’t really matter – wasn’t born on December 25th, and in fact wasn’t born anywhere near December at all. But, once again, all that goes to a different blog, which quite honestly has been beaten to death and there is no real reason for me to go into it other than the illustration above.

Now, I will concede that there was a valid point to the comments – that being the whole Santa thing. I mean, when you look at it historically – and worldwide for that matter – this whole Santa Claus legend/myth has several different avenues, turns, detours, and bizarre stories it takes – up to and including sidekicks such as “Black Pete” (I’ll have to tell you the story about my own personal confusion on the Black Pete mythos sometime… Let’s just say I had it correct all except for the name… Seems that in my twisted brain he became Black Bob, but again, another story for another time…)

Anywho, we are all pretty much aware – and if you aren’t you are about to get educated – that the present “American” incarnation of Santa Claus is the product of marketing by a soft drink company. Yeah, no kidding. Look it up.

But, as usual, I have digressed a bit.

You see, the thing that really got me about the comments on the Oddly Enough blog was that one of them referred to Santa Claus as, and I quote, “…an all-knowing, omnipresent, pedophiliac old man…”

Well, all knowing, yeah, I guess I can give you that. Omnipresent, well yeah, that too. I mean, according to the myth the fat bastard DOES manage to get around the entire globe in a single 24 hour period, all while making countless stops.

However… pedophiliac? Never mind the fact that we have a noun-adjective-noun combination there that just drives me insane (i.e. grammatically it should be pedophilic old man)… But, like I said, let’s ignore the creation of a new part of speech here, that being the nounective… or adjenoun… and just focus on what this person is attempting to say.

This “commentator” just called Santa Claus a child molester…

Now, I am not sure about the rest of you but there was no time in my life, as a child or as an adult, when I ever heard of Santa Claus molesting a kid. I never heard a single story about the Jolly Old Elf having any such interest in children. Hell, I never heard a single story about Santa even having an interest in his wife, much less kids.

Sure, now that I am an adult I have seen the “adult” cartoons that run about the net, featuring Santa mooning you, or getting laid, or what have you… But, not with kids, and I definitely didn’t see this stuff until I was an adult.

Sooooo… If the commentator above grew up believing that Santa Claus is a Pedophile, then you have to wonder what this person’s parents were telling her…Or, dare I say it? What happened to her as a child… It boggles the mind. Well, it boggles MY mind…

You know… Having read that particular comment actually made me a bit angry… You see, my Grandfather, Elvis Babb, used to play Santa at the local store back in the small town of Fulton, KY where I am from, and he was a hell of a guy. A hell of a Santa too.

For someone to say Santa is a Pedophile sullies the reputation of Santa’s everywhere, including the memory of my Grandfather… Shame on her.

More to come…

Murv

As always, while this blog is certainly an opinion piece, it is written tongue in cheek and intended to entertain.

There are times when it seriously sucks to be the Dad.

I suppose I should back up just a bit and give you some background as to why I make that statement, because I suspect most of you know I am all about my kid. So, let me fill you in…

Some of you may or may not be aware that the animals in my novels – those being the two dogs and the three cats who share the abode with the main characters, Rowan and Felicity – are actually based on my own four-legged cohabitators. The dogs, as I have mentioned in the past, have since gone on to the other side, but they still live on in my books. So too, do the felines in many senses, as they are composites of the numerous cats we have rescued over the years. Emily – the cats in the novels are named Emily (Dickinson), Dickens (Charles), and Salinger (J.D.), go figure – is based on the real life felines, Data and Buffer, both calicos like their fictional composite. Data left us last year, peacefully, in her sleep. She was something on the order of a million years old… Well, around 18+ years to be a little more exact, but for a cat, that’s a fair piece of time. Buffer, however, was still around – until this weekend.

Buffer was only 14, but that is still a good lifetime for a feline. To be honest, where I come from, farm cats rarely made it past 5 or 6 years, but I digress as usual. The especially bad part about losing Buffer this weekend is that she went outside and got into an altercation with a vehicle.

The vehicle won.

EK and the Spawn were out shopping, which was fortunate, because I was the one who found her instead of them. As you can guess, when you are talking Feline vs. Auto, the results aren’t very pretty.

So, I found her… And, I got to be the one who cleaned up the remains, dug the hole, tried to convince my wife that the animal hadn’t suffered – though I really couldn’t know that for sure – and help console an 8 year old who misses her friend. Then, I got to toss and turn that night because the image of the aftermath played back for me each time I closed my eyes. And, you know, as it happens I miss the cat too. But, I have to be the strong one.

Hence, why it sometimes sucks to be the Dad, especially when a shovel an a shoebox are involved…

(sigh)

I suppose I should try to end this on a slightly cheerier note, so here goes…

Speaking of pets, I’m sure most everyone is aware of the latest Myspace rage, that being purchasing and selling your friends as “human pets”. Well, it seems I was purchased by an old friend, and she has since sold me… Since then I have been gifted, traded, and sold all over the place. But, just so all the bases are covered, I’ll mention here that if you purchase me, unlike Morrison, I am housebroken and fairly low maintenance.

BTW, I really like Pizza and beer, but I don’t do tricks. Well, I do, but that’s a whole ‘nother story…

More to come…

Murv