Respect Authority

My defenses are down. On an impromptu outlet shopping adventure this week, I found myself considering all manner of unnecessary purchases, things I couldn’t even begin to claim I “need” - sneakers, jeans, jewelry, wholesale quantities of chocolate truffles. Surrounded by a triple threat of pricing markdowns - outlet, recession, Christmas - I was unprepared to bring forth the will power necessary to just say no. To half-price Nikes, to $20 Chuck Taylors, even - in a moment of sheer nostalgia - to $15 Pacific Sunwear jeans.

If this is shopping now, when the recession is little more than a buzzword for middle America, and “depression” still associated with 1929, bread lines and our grandparents’ complaining, I find myself increasingly concerned that next year, and the unavoidable economic melee sure to come with it, will yield another flurry of discount shopping - one which I might find myself even less capable of evading. Read More ›

There are a lot of things I plan to own when I’m old that would be considered unacceptable at the ripe age of 23: orthopedic shoes, canned prunes, a subscription to AARP. But while growing older justifies more than a few forays into the realm of the uncool, there are some things it’s never acceptable to possess, and nonsensical Christmas paraphernalia is at the top of my list.

It’s not that I have anything against Christmas decor, per se. As we speak, my apartment is decked out with a whopping three items: a one-foot-tall knit Christmas tree that, despite a 100+ year presence in my family, somehow ended up in the hands of the person with by far the least Christmas spirit; a cheap Santa hat draped creatively over a lampshade; and a $5.99 stuffed dog on a sled that barks “Jingle Bells” when you pinch his ear. Which I bought primarily in an effort to frighten the cat.

As you can see, I am nothing if not festive. It was in fact that very holiday spirit that temporarily desensitized me to the abundance of Christmas decor in my mother’s house - that and the beeline I made for the eggnog. But upon closer inspection, of which I have had plenty of time to conduct being trapped in suburbia without friends for three days, I began to notice that my house has at some point in the last few years become a veritable dumping ground for the detritus of every Christmas kiosk in at least a 50 mile radius.

For one, there are at least three decapitated Santa heads, though I’ve chosen to photographically document only that which I have long considered the most creepy and least jolly. It appears as though someone found a miniature Santa, threw him in the guillotine, and mailed the result to my mother as a pint-sized bundle of Christmas joy. Dude doesn’t even look cheerful. Read More ›

As if we aren’t constantly pummeled by Hollywood with reasons to be terrified of the future as it is (the Terminator, Alien, and Matrix trilogies, to name a few — and is it really any coincidence that in all three series, the individual films get increasingly terrible as the future progresses? Improving situations are just not part of the fabric of the future, as opposed to robot holocausts, alien invasions, and liquid food), this weekend the movie-making money machine was up to it yet again with another blow to American optimism in these uncertain times. Yes, that’s right, my friends — Four Christmases debuted in the number one slot at the box office.

Despite the fact that, in recent years, Christmas movies are almost by definition devoid of the potential for enjoyment, studios continue to produce them, and that’s only because they know audiences will continue to gobble them up like the roast beast at the Whoville Christmastime feast. Culturally, we are Christmas’ slave, and there is no escape now that we’ve let ourselves be stuffed into its stocking.

Dan Fellman, head of distribution for Warner Bros., describes the oppressive holiday movie atmosphere a little differently, you know, as if he wasn’t a blood-sucking Hollywood drone nourished solely by greed. He chalks up Four Christmases entirely undeserved profits by saying, “It was the perfect time. It’s the only movie out there that deals with Christmas.” And there it is, in carefully veiled terms — “we know you fools are powerless against the artificial charms of old Mr. Kringle, so why don’t you just come over here and sit on Santy’s lap.” Read More ›