Category: Ramblings

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My Christmas rant

‘Tis the Season of Obligation, and I hate it.

If you’re feeling full of Christmas cheer and good will to all men, look away now, because reading this will only make you feel sad, angry, or insulted. Possible all three. I mean it. Really. Stop reading.

I love giving presents, but I hate giving them because the calendar says I must. I love my friends and family, but I hate having a massive list that we must methodically and mechanically run down to see that everyone receives at item appropriate to their status and closeness. And because everyone is buying presents all at the same time, I hate having to coordinate to ensure that the unwanted trinkets I plan to buy won’t clash with someone else’s purchase.

Likewise, I don’t care about getting presents for Christmas any more. I have everything I want already, and I would far rather you got me nothing than that you bought me something I don’t need and will never use just because you feel you have to. In fact, you know what’s the greatest gift you could get me next year? To tell me that you haven’t bought me anything. I would truly appreciate knowing that I have saved you that small measure of hassle, and that your Chistmas workload has been lightened just that little bit.

You think I’m kidding? You think I couldn’t possibly mean it? You think it’s just because the preparations for this Christmas have been getting me down? Absolutely not. I am being completely honest. Stop. Giving. Me. Shit.

(And please don’t give a charitable donation instead of getting me a gift. That’s just as bad. Give to a charity because you want to give to a charity, not because you feel some residual obligation to me. Charities need our money all year round.)

I have a wish list, and I hate not being able to buy anything from it in November or December, just because someone might selected something from it already. As of 2006, the wish list is going away.

If you really want to get me something, get something for ME–not for Christmas. If you have some music you particularly like, and you want to share it with me, send me a CD in the middle of March, out of the blue. If you’re browsing through the Autumn sales and see a T-shirt you think would suit me, give it to me in September. Show that it’s me you’re thinking about, not just another item on your shopping list.

I’m having a tough time keeping up appearances for the kids, and trying to keep things magical for them. I don’t want my grumpiness to ruin their pleasure. But equally, I don’t want them to grow up into Christmas Want-monsters. The American Thanksgiving tradition seems to me a much better model for a mid-winter holiday: the absence of gifts keeps things focused on the family, and the togetherness. There’s only so much preparation you can do for a big meal, and the shops don’t play psychosis-inducing festive music for two months solid leading up to it. (Honestly, the next time I hear “I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day” someone is going to get their nose bitten off.)

Finally, anyone who wants to call me a “Scrooge” can just fuck off. Get an original thought once in a while, you sheep.

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G8, yada yada

I was going to write something about the G8 protests happening in Edinburgh this week, but Abi has already done an excellent job of it over on her blog. Yes, there have been protests; no, there hasn’t been any full-scale rioting.

Edinburgh Evening News front page from 5 July 2005Not that that has stopped the media from trying to hype up even minor kerfuffles. The most egregious sensationalism probably came from today’s (Tuesday’s) Evening News. “THE NIGHTMARE COMES TRUE” reads the garish headline. “We prayed it wouldn’t happen but yesterday the city erupted. The day that rocked the Capital: Pages 2-3, 4-5, 6-7, 8-9, 12”

And yet they couldn’t find anything more shocking to show on the front page than a close-cropped photo of a few police officers pushing back two protesters? Give me a break.

When I cycled along Princes St yesterday afternoon, the riot police outnumbered the revellers/protesters. And in many places, the press photographers outnumbered the riot police.

The unfortunate thing is that it’s in the interests of everyone involved to make the most out of every little scrap and scrape:

  • The protesters want the publicity of defeats in minor incidents to show how strongly they’re being oppressed, and how disproportionate the police response is
  • The police want the publicity of victories in minor incidents to demonstrate how firmly they’ve got the situation under control
  • The media want the publicity of minor incidents, because, well, they don’t have any major ones to report on. They’ve got all these reporters, photographers and camera crews on site, and they damn well want to get their money’s worth. “G8 protests uneventful” doesn’t sell newspapers.
  • The people of Edinburgh want the publicity of minor incidents so that we can tut-tut disapprovingly in public (while breathing sighs of relief in private), and generally maintain a air of superiority over Seattle and Genoa, while still appearing sympathetic to their plight. Edinburgh is far too civilized for all-out street warfare, don’t y’know?
  • The politicians are just happy for any kind of publicity at all.

(Of course, this may all change tomorrow.)

I have to say that I’m terribly cynical about the power of the Make Poverty History movement, the Live 8 concerts, and the G8 protests. It’s feel-good activism. I’m not belittling the goal of abolishing poverty (I am a socialist, after all), but it’s a bit like praying for rain in Glasgow, and then believing that God has smiled on you personally when it starts bucketing down.

The G8 leaders must think that Christmas has come early. Here is this massive popular movement, demanding that they take action over a hugely emotive issue. How much will cost the G8 nations to write off Third World debt? Peanuts. Shave a tiny percentage off of defense budgets, for example, and you’re practically there. When else in history have politicians had it in their power to satisfy so many voters by doing so little?

There will be a press conference, and a few well-photographed handshakes. Job done. Everyone wearing a white armband can smile in satisfaction that they helped make it happen! and go back to not caring about more complex issues affecting the world, like climate change, religious conflicts in the Middle-East, and the slithery tentacles of corporatism. You can’t be expected to solve all the world’s problems yourself, can you?

On a vaguely related topic, I am absolutely in awe of the police’s ability to keep their cool around so many clowns. It’s not that I’m afraid of clowns per se (sinister though they may be), it’s just that anyone who chooses to dress up like that and parade down the street, taunting bystanders with a “look how alternative I am!” attitude, is in clear need of a damn good kicking.

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I’m not a grammar nazi, but… (part 2)

In the wake of my previous post, I feel the need to get another rant off my chest: the importance of distinguishing between loose and lose.

  • loose is the adjective meaning unrestrained, detached, free, or floppy. Loose change. Loose women. You can also use it as a verb, but in that case it means you are actively releasing something. You can loose a ship from its moorings, for example.
  • lose is a verb meaning you don’t have something any more. You lose your keys. I lose my cool when you mix them up.

The strongest reason I can offer for picking the right one is the way I saw a piece of exercise equipment being advertised in a shop window recently:

Loose fat fast!

Now I know they were trying to give the impression that working out with this kit would give you firm abs and a tight butt, but the actual promise was that you would end up looking like a half-filled water balloon.

Personally, I’d rather not run the risk.

Just get them straight, willya?

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Socks: underwear, or just socks?

Hot issue of the day: do you consider socks to be underwear? I do, Abi doesn’t. Abi’s argument is that she doesn’t mind my grandmother seeing her socks, therefore they’re not underwear. My argument is that they belong to the “things that go under your main clothes” family, and thus are right up there with knickers and bras. Plus, they go in my underwear drawer. Duh.

Your opinions, please.