Christmas traditions

Last night I listened to a CBC radio story trying to sell the frenzy of last-minute shopping as "a Canadian Christmas tradition". Really? They even tacked on the mad scramble for airplanes, buses and trains. "It wouldn't be Christmas if I wasn't sleeping in an airport," some clueless traveller said. Well, CBC radio, I have been on a packed Greyhound bus in the days before Christmas and I can tell you that the only tradition is mindless suffering, ruinous indignity and the rolling smell of old, cold farts. If you're at the back of the bus then you get the bonus stink of chemically-treated piss, not to mention the cheery company of the miscreants and lunatics who congregate there (indeed, the back of the Greyhound bus past midnight just might be the 20th century's cathedral for aspiring criminals).

Anyone who would be caught dead in a store this time of year is either hapless or mad. And if *that's* your tradition, so be it. I'll stick with practiced alcoholism and the casual death of my dreams, but that's only because I'm more civilized.

* * * * *

There was a guy, this time last year, who complained to CBC radio that all the bad news about the financial crisis was ruining his Christmas. Which seemed, to me at least, like complaining about the sight of round turds at the horse races. I wondered too, if he'd have more sympathy if he was one of those bankrupted or downsized. Instead he sounded like a middle-aged guy in an all-season cottage -- tastefully decorated -- who made bird houses all year just so he could give them away to (read: inflict upon) his family and friends at Christmas.

I wonder how he is now? On fire, I hope. But I never get what I ask Santa for.

* * * * *

Yesterday I had someone express complete dismay at the revelation that C already knows exactly what she's getting for Christmas. Because she asked for it. Why it is shocking that an adult woman would speak her mind, that she would be specific about what she wanted, is beyond me. "But where's the magic in that?" my crazed interlocutor asked.

I think it might be at the mall. Or in the cavity-search room at the airport.

Thank Christ I am not travelling at Christmas!


  1. I quite enjoyed your commentary on the Christmas mayhem. Enjoy your first Christmas with Oona. Children really bring the magic back to the whole event. Merry Christmas to you and your family.

  2. I love that it says "farty" above Oona's bubble.

    Thank-you again for the card, the magnet the lovely photo it made my day. Merry Christmas to you and your family!

  3. gotta love the bearded weirdos.

    i was accused of ruining a customer's Christmas this year, due in full to the non-appearance of leather bound travel journal.

    i can't tell you how much i wanted to point out the sad emptiness of her life if her happiness were dependent on such things!

    silly cow.

    hope your Christmas was lovely!

  4. Love the drawing!

    Merry Christmas!

  5. I would hate to be one of the travelers to complain how horrible Christmas is.

    I hope you enjoyed your Christmas!


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