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.

This blog is really about nothing. This is not to say that any of my previous blogs have been about something, however, this particular running off at the keys is pretty much about more nothing than any of the previous nothings… Or somethings… Or nothi-somethings… Well, you get the idea.

As the title suggests, it is about the ever important PB&J. Yes. The iconic peanut butter and jelly sammich.

Now, as sammiches go, the PB&J is just about the closest you can get to the land of childhood comfort foods. At least, for my generation it is.

You see, while we tail-end baby boomers (Yeah, I was born in the last year of what qualifies as the baby-boomer generation) never dealt with anything quite like the depression, we DID see a horrendous recession. We remember only being able to buy gas on Sundays. We remember hamburger being a luxury, and steak a far out dream affordable only to the elite… And, yeah, we even remember when the expression “Far Out” was cool… Along with other hallmarks of the era such as “cool”, “keep on truckin'”, and “lid” (not that I was ever…ahem…intimately associated with what a “lid” actually was… ummm… ahem… that’s my story and I’m sticking to it…) Of course, there I go digressing again…

My point is, back then, money was tight. When the company for which my father worked at the time went on an extended strike (read several months) money got even tighter. Dad was against the strike, but he walked the line for strike pay, and picked up other work where he could so that food stayed on the table and bills got paid. Mom worked too. It was the beginning of a different era – two parents, both with jobs. Life was changing drastically.

So, with money tight – and at times non-existent – even the truly wonderful childhood memory of the fried bologna sammich was relegated to specific occasions. Yes, SPAM/Treet, and fried bologna were more often than not a staple on the supper table. Don’t get me wrong. Mom and Dad made sure we ate, and ate as healthy as we possibly could. We kept a garden and had fresh vegetables. But, it wasn’t at all unusual for the aforementioned processed animal parts to be the center of our entree on the supper table. And, to set the record straight, let’s remember that I happen to like SPAM/Treet and Bologna, so I wasn’t complaining. Still, I also like turkey, steak, fish, etc…

But, back to the PB&J. That particular sammich became the common lunch. Not just because it was something kids would gladly eat – well, most kids anyway – but because it was cheap and relatively nourishing. You could get a large jar of Peanut Butter (actually a legume, not a nut, for those keeping score), a loaf of bread, and jar of jelly for next to nothing. Even better for us was the fact that we had fruit trees and grape vines in our back yard, so Mom made jelly and put it up, further reducing the overall cost.

There you had it – Cheap, full of protein, and even a handful of vitamins. Yes, a dab of sugar too, but hey, we were kids…

So…why all this sudden nostalgia? Simple. I just had myself a PB&J while standing over the sink and thinking about where my current manuscript is heading plotwise. Unfortunately, Mom and Dad are both gone, and I have no homemade jelly or preserves, but I made do with the storebought kind.

Of course, being an old guy who tries to be health conscious, the jelly was low sugar and the bread was whole grain instead of the “too soft” white bread with a bunny on the package that had been the staple in my youth… But, it still had the same effect, and it transported me back to my childhood.

As I stood there eating it, however, one other thing came to mind… The fact that our economy is crashing like a 1 year old who is just learning to walk, and now in my late forties I am witnessing the same things I saw when I was in my single and early double digits. Maybe even worse…

Up to, and including a PB&J for lunch…

I guess my daughter will get to tell this same story years from now… For my money, that’s a damn shame.

More to come…

Murv