December Endgame
December 2013- Just a little something for the terrible now to get the ornaments breaking…….
*
Holiday for Neurotics
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*
Some say it starts at Thanksgiving
the same ones who mutter under their breath
as the mailman walks away, “I pity the next sorry
bastard asks how my TURKEY day was!”
Hey….this was my big year I managed to completely
defrost the MSG pigeon and not cook the giblets
in the paper packet inside the gutted body cavity.
This success means nothing to all the relatives and in-laws
in the living room the kitchen, the bathroom, the telephone.
The measured, inquisitional, hyper calm voice of your mother
in-law on the line. You know the one who looks at you like
you are a cross between Judas and little Charlie Manson.
She has been extremely patient with you. After all she knows
your sure to screw up sooner or later.
The Uncles who after you ask for some advice can hardly
contain the merriment sparkling in their eyes saying,
“you mean to tell me, it’s taken you this long to realize
that you’ve been barking up the wrong tree for so long,
why it’s a wonder you can even still talk with all the
dead leaves stuck down your throat.”
*
The holiday neurotic
and it’s only the beginning.
The day after “Turkey Day”
is, of course, “Shopping Day”
Black Friday
Cyber Monday
The popular culture starts winding up the elastic
band of consumption, twisting tighter, smaller knots
of blind wild product orgy. Perfect.
There may be a need for safe sex.
But safe shopping? Nah. Never.
Then PBS will start it’s a “Wonderful Life” loop.
George Baily in tears on the bridge in the snow
hrs. a day. Clarence Oddbody and George Baily
being booted out of Nick’s as the bartender snarls,
“Listen this is a bar for men who want to drink hard
liqueur to get drunk fast and we don’t need any characters
coming in here given the joint ATMOSPHERE. Now do I make
myself clear or do I need to slip you a knuckle sandwich
for a convincer!!”
*
And for once you’re not left in tears on the couch torn by the
realization you wished the angel just might blow
it. George would either drown or the whole town wouldn’t
show up in a spontaneous gesture of good will to pay
off his debts. And off old George would be hauled to the
can on Christmas eve as Donna Reed and the kids all sob.
It wouldn’t be a wonderful life but dammit to hell it
might be real life.
And, of course, there’s the Christmas music.
Hitting the deck in the halls
Of Krap-Mart.
As the PA system blares
O ATM, O ATM, O ATM, O ATM
Why were the greedy store owners pulverizing those
Carols to death? The songs had long since lost any
meaning. Now they were the obligatory soundtrack to the
meaning. Now they were the obligatory soundtrack to the
mandatory consumption. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t even music
anymore. You could not escape. You could not win.
The more reverent the sediments the more absurd your
surroundings became. Away in a manger in the
small appliance department. Standing in a line that snakes
back all the way back past stationary through woman’s
underwear to the little town of Bethlehem.
The endless march of faces.
Everybody looking like their own banal Commercial induced
product choice.
They looked like programs teetering on cancellation.
The droves.
It was the Battan Death march of December.
The vacant eyes. The jaws slowly working the gum.
Here come the eager.
Here come the weary.
There go the satiated.
Shopping Mall zombies
stumbling numbly across the tile while, “Grand Ma, got
run over by a Reindeer as done by Soul Asylum, blast out
overhead from the invisible P.A.
.
And your present this year?
Why it’s the realization you’re just another one of them.
No different. Worse really. You feel like this……?
Shit! At least they’re happy…er…content…ah…well
adjusted to this convoluted contrived artificial cathedral
.
So shaddup and face Mecca.
Right over there….. just to the left over near Sears.
Ducking into a bar. You sigh. Order up.
And your shoulders slump.
What the hell is the matter with me anyway ?
I feel like this all year round.
You know this is just the start of
The Christmas time grind.
And in a blue funk you start a conversation with a stranger.
You both commiserate. Yeah, it’s so commercial. Yeah, it’s a
big pain in the ass. Yeah, ain’t like it used to be.
So you tell your stories of the past Christmas’s.
And your new friend tells his.
Then you both get real quiet.
Sit there elbow to elbow.
Soon it’s time to go.
And as you shake hands and catch that something in each
others eye, while wishing season greetings, walk away
feeling a little better thinking, “Christ, at least I ain’t as
bad off as that crazy bastard.
*
So now you can get that ass of yours on straight
again this year for Christmas
Because you only get so many of them
Here on earth.
So get lost with cyber-Scrooge Vibe
Will ya ?
Dec. 92-93/Nov 2011
Rubbereden 
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