Hydrogen & Stupidity

Do You Believe in Sanity Clause?

Originally posted December, 2006

Now self-righteousness is generally offensive in all forms, but there's a specialized form of this smugness that's currently epidemic. And it can be summed up in one buzz phrase:

"Get in the Christmas spirit."

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We'll start with the psychological concept of denial, because among the pyschobabble crowd, denial can be a smug, self-serving art form. The best example comes in interventions -- you know, where friends and family gather together to confront a loved one on their drug or alcohol or whatever problem. And there must be a problem because, otherwise, that person is in denial. Talk about a convenient form of logic. You can never be wrong. It's either your way or denial.

Secondly, I am genuinely happy that for millions of people, this is the merriest time of the year, and I wish them no ill-will. Hoist your egg nog, roast your chestnuts and bask in the glow of warmth, friends and family. For the Orthodox Christians who celebrate Christmas in January, for the Jews who celebrated Hannukah earlier this month, for the Kwanzaans and even for all the people observing Ramadan, may your lives be peaceful and loving. Let everybody be happy in their own way.

Even if that way means avoiding the whole damn holiday thing.

A fresh way of viewing Christmas lies in the analogy of political advertising campaigns. A key in effective political TV is to say something without saying it; that is, to bring up an impression without ever saying it directly. By swearing you'll never raise taxes, you leave the impression your opponent will; by emphasizing your clean Christian lifestyle, you leave unsaid all the William Jefferson Clinton stuff.

Christmas is well-financed, crafted and orchestrated six-week media campaign based on what you do not have. It contains the classic advertising secret of envy (you can have it, too), but what makes it particularly nasty this time of year is the addition of obligations and expectations. That's a helluva retail strategy. Imagine people going to auto mechanics because they felt obliged to get a $200 brake job instead of needing a brake job.

The merchandising of guilt. Quite an incentive, indeed.

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The second component is what I call the Dickens factor. Thanks to a long list of culturally polite fictions, a major part of the populace has managed to make Christmas a special day and keep it that way. That's not a problem. The problem comes when they insist it should be that way for everybody. A most unfortunate outgrowth of all the folklore happy endings based on someone catching the Christmas spirit. It's as standard a literary convention as "the butler did it."

Folks who do not have happy Christmas memories wind up in what psychobabblists call a double-bind. First there's the whole denial thing -- that it's your fault you got vaccinated against holiday fever. Secondly, unless you want to aggressively trash religion, you're automatically defensive when discussing the issue. If you play along with it and hate it, you feel worse; if you avoid it for the sake of your own mental health, you're branded for all kinds of imperfections.

So yeah, for the record, I'll tell you my Christmas memories. Getting caught trying to steal a Christmas tree because we couldn't afford one. Having my first job (paper route) and having enough money for my first-ever Christmas and getting ripped off by my drunk ass dad. Having a megadollar oceanfront family Christmas complete with (not making this up) two truckloads of presents and It Not Being Enough. Even spending Christmas in Bethlehem, Israel, complete with its security checks and background music of helicopter whump-whumps, complete with its bleak downtown parking lot known euphemistically as Manger Square. I won't even get into the drunk Swiss europunk puking on my boots.

I'll skip frozen water pipes that wouldn't have frozen if we'd had a freakin lump of coal; the Christmas sleep on a plastic bench because the train was six hours late; or even the romantic fireplace picnic on Christmas Eve because after years of this crap, I was still willing to try and forge something out of this holiday.

So what happened? Her Grinch boss kept her at work until 4 a.m. in the morning, and she passed out exhausted before the first grape. I brought her a pillow and a top blanket, softly tucked her in. I put the food away and sat in a red leather chair, popped a cork and watched the fire die.

Didn't find Christmas at the bottom of the champagne bottle, either.

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Enough with the daytime TV fodder. This principle can be boiled down to a soundbite. Don't invite recovering alcoholics out for St. Patrick's Day. Same principle applies here. If someone declines your invitation to join in the holiday cheer, just leave it alone. They'll be the same person in January, they'll just be coming with less on their minds.

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G.L. Marshall regrets to inform you he will not be attendance.