All I know is that the clown who smelled like he had taken a bath at the local liquor store told me that he wanted to play hide the salami with her. I suppose that between the stench and his words I should have told my sister to fire him immediately but I was too busy laughing at the name I had given him, â€œThe Fairy Fucker.â€
The Flying Clown
It never occurred to me that one day I would have a use for a picture of a drunk Santa Claus. Never occurred to me that one day I would be viciously attacked and accused of trying to wreck Christmas because I said Happy Holidays.
Maybe it should have. Maybe I should have realized that man who beat up Tweedle Dee and was named the number one enemy of Cleveland should be careful because crazy things happen.
Newscasters engage in crazy commentary about whether Santa is white, Black or Asian and sometimes angry Jewish men talk about how There Are No Jewish Christmas Trees & Santa Isnâ€™t Real.
But then again I have a long list of reasons why I hate the holiday season most of which have nothing to do with the submariner who accused me of being a drunk and suicidal Santa.
Time Passes and Tolerance Grows
Kind of funny to look back at some things and see how my thoughts, feelings and ideas have changed and or evolved.
If I remove my tongue from my cheek I will say my honest opinion is that the holiday season feels like an all out assault on my senses and I have a hard time understanding how anyone can honestly argue about a War on Christmas because it is all I seem to hear and see.
This year has been easier for me because there is no overlap between Chanukah and Christmas and no attempt by people to equate the two as being the same.
They are different and they have different levels of importance to those who observe them.
Won’t lie and say I have changed my mind about our priorities being mixed up. Still bothers me that we spend so much encouraging people to dig deep and help each other out because of the time of year.
Homeless still exist after January 1 and the hungry have empty bellies year round.
Drives me nuts to see such a focus on possession and less on more important things.
A Question of Dignity
Talked with my son again about the homeless guy I sold a pair of my shoes to. Happened two years ago this past August.
There was a homeless guy who lived under a bridge near our old house. I remember seeing him around the neighborhood. He was weathered, dirty and worn but always friendly.
One day we held a garage sale and he came by.
He looked through our stuff, picked up a pair of my shoes and took out his wallet.
When he asked me how much I told him I wanted a couple of bucks and he paid me and went on his way.
Can’t tell you what made my son think about that story today but when he asked me why I charged him I told him it was a question of dignity.
He wanted to pay something for the shoes and I wasn’t about to rob him of his dignity. A small transaction made it possible for him to own shoes that didn’t have any holes in them and retain some sense of being a person.
I think that is what bothers me most about this time of year is that we seem to forget about the person and focus on the possessions.
And that is not a lesson I want my children to learn.