Mar 17 2012

Phony 2012

There is a new disease that has just been discovered – it’s called “Kony 2012 Fever”.  Symptoms include deluding one’s self, blindly giving away your money on a whim, thinking you’re a social activist after watching a 30 minute video and ignoring problems that have been existent for over 20 years.

Don’t get me wrong – I don’t for a minute condone what Joseph Kony has done, the pain and the suffering he has put so many through.  What I object to is the way that every Tom, Dick and Harry has jumped on the bandwagon like they’re some sort of altruistic hero all of a sudden.

I was raised to be sceptical, or put more euphemistically, not to take things on face value, or to judge a book solely by its cover.  I’m afraid that there are a great many out there who have just jumped head first into this cause without doing the necessary research needed to be better informed.  Sadly, it’s a symptom of our ‘instant porridge’ generation.

First of all, the Kony 2012 video makes a play at the heartstrings of the populace with the all too familiar techniques – flashy montages with uplifting/catchy tunes, sombre/dramatic music for those ‘touching’ moments, and last but not least, the clearly blatant emotive use of a four year old child.

It is the last technique listed above that I have a problem with.  Jason Russell, one of the people behind Invisible Children Inc. and maker of the Kony 2012 ‘documentary’, blatantly uses his four-year-old son to elicit an emotional response from the video’s viewers, because isn’t it so cute to have a four-year-old spouting simplistic sentences?

Really, what’s he there for anyway?  Sure, I understand Jason wants to educate his son about his cause, but in a video like this?  Seriously?  To my mind, the only reason Jason’s son is in the video is to stroke Jason’s already inflated ego, with the simplistic message of “Daddy good, Kony bad.”

There are also some questions that the video throws up that disturb me.  The video claims that Kony has been committing these atrocities for 26 years.  If that is the case, why are we only just hearing about it now?  Why was this sort of thing not brought to our attention sooner?  Why wasn’t it plastered across our media in the 1990s?  Social media has been around since 2003 (My Space – 2003, Facebook – 2004 and Twitter – 2006), so why only now bring this to our attention in this way?

It is true in life that if you drum home a message long enough and hard enough, eventually people will believe it to be true – why do you think politicians sprout sound bytes day after day?  If those concerned enough with this cause had have used this type of mantra all those years ago, would there be a need for all of this blanket coverage now?  Probably not.

The video also claims that 99% of the world’s population didn’t know who Kony was before this week, and that “no one cared”.  You don’t say?  That may have something to do with the fact that what he’s done hasn’t been in the public consciousness, and that it probably hasn’t had a need to satisfy someone’s altruistic motives until now.

There are also some very vague statements made towards the end of the video, for example, “We have reached a crucial point in history where what we do, or don’t do, right now, will affect every generation to come.”  This is nothing new, because EVERYTHING that has happened up to this point in history has somehow affected future generations in some way or another.

Another vague statement that offers pause for thought – “We are not just studying human history… we are shaping it.”  Again, this is nothing new – EVERYTHING that ANYONE has ever done, EVER, has shaped human history in some way or another.

The Internet, and social media in particular, has made these sorts of things easily accessible, easily obtainable and readily available to those who can access it and, perhaps more pertinently, want, access to it.  This is why this campaign has taken off so spectacularly.  The problem, however, is that a lot of the people who have jumped on board this campaign out there in Social Media Land are blindly following this campaign like a herd of sheep, and are ignorant of the facts of the situation, because, let’s face it, social media is the easiest way to tap into the ignorant masses.

Another issue I have with this video is that it is promoting the putting up of posters with Kony’s face in cities worldwide on April 20, which is effectively promoting vandalism on a mass scale.  I’m guessing that doing this would break many a council, state or federal law all in many places around the world, which may lead to some full police holding cells on April 21.  Don’t be surprised if you see me tearing down as many as I can in the preceding weeks.

Finally, the other thing about the video is that it is too long.  That may be to do with the fact that I’m probably a by-product of a generation where anything over two minutes doesn’t tend to hold attention spans.  However, I feel that the video would have been much more effective had it been half the length that it is.  There is a lot of ‘padding’ that really wasn’t all that necessary to the overall product.  There wasn’t really any need for Jason Russell to include his son in this video – cutting out those bits alone would probably cut down the time by about 5-6 minutes.  Then there is also the fact that the video takes about 4 ½ minutes for it to reach any semblance of what it was made for.  For a cause like this, you really need to hammer home your message into the viewer in the first 2-3 minutes for it to be a truly effective product.

Don’t get me wrong – I think this is an admirable and noble cause.  However, I have an overwhelming sense that when (if?) Kony is captured and bought to justice and all this hullaballoo dies down, that those who got their knickers in a twist about it will go back to not giving a fuck about anyone but themselves and not engage themselves in other problems around the world, e.g. the HIV/AIDS problem in Africa in general, the civil uprisings in the Middle East, and so on.  That may be what Invisible Children wants for when this goes away, I don’t know, but that haven’t exactly said if this is the case or not.  Now, I ain’t perfect – I’m not directly or indirectly involved in the betterment of those problems, but I sure as hell ain’t going to be donating my hard-earned to a corporation with questionable motives, at best.

And what happens if Kony is not arrested before December 31, 2012, the deadline the video gives?  Will we just forget about it and get back to living in ignorant bliss once more?

In summary, the ‘documentary’ has probably achieved one of its aims – to get people talking about this issue – hell, I’ve spent hours researching for and writing this blog piece.  What I don’t subscribe to is the way it’s been done.  We’ve been force fed a simplistic 30 minute video which doesn’t give all the facts, and as a result of this, Social Media Land has gone into meltdown with those looking to satisfy some form of nagging altruistic need – buy a Kony 2012 bracelet and action kit (only $30!!), soothe some guilt.

Seriously, I hope they catch the bastard soon, so we can all shut the fuck up about it.

For a more well researched piece, follow this link: http://blog.foreignpolicy.com/posts/2012/03/07/guest_post_joseph_kony_is_not_in_uganda_and_other_complicated_things#.T1ihgG9gGKs.twitter

Australian Senator Simon Birmingham, of the Liberal Party of Australia, had this to say in the Australian Senate this week (his argument was don’t just press retweet – do something):

“Whether it is the horrors of war and the actions of people like Joseph Kony or simple things like access to contraception or other Millennium Development Goals that look at access to clean water and the things we take for granted here in Australia, I would urge all those Australians and others around the world who have been inspired by this social media campaign to think beyond the moment where they click that mouse or retweet a link about what they can do to support the organisations who do so much work to try to make a difference in this area — what they can do to improve education and awareness beyond that moment of feeling good.”

“Hopefully, if people take up that challenge and if many of the people who have viewed the Kony video think for a little bit longer about these issues, some real good can come of it.”

For a video from a former Uganda resident, click here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=7DO73Ese25Y

Finally, I’ll leave the final word to an Internet pundit, with a comment left on website http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/events/kony-2012:

“Children being abducted, enslaved, and forced into armies in Africa and across the globe is nothing new. The only reason people have even decided to take notice of this issue is because it was on their Facebook or Twitter feed. Kony, and hundreds more like him have been, are, and always will be on this planet. Once we get our noses out of our inboxes and actually educate ourselves about the world around us, maybe we’ll do something about these issues. What sickens me more than Kony is the fact that after 20 years of torture for the people of Uganda, only now do people actually begin to take notice or even care. Yes, social media is great for spreading the word about stopping and preventing these things, but people need to get educated. Watch a documentary or two, read a magazine or book, please learn about the world you are living in. Believe it or not, it is bigger than your friends’ statuses.”

Feb 20 2012

Budget Surpluses – hero or villain?

The term “budget surplus” is bandied about a lot these days, particularly by politicians and the media.  A budget surplus, we’re told, is a sign of “sound economic management”, and any government found not to be running a surplus in their budget are derided and hounded by pundits and opposition parties alike for not managing taxpayer’s money properly.

But are budget surpluses all they’re cracked up to be?  In these days of economic uncertainty, it is seen as a sign of good government to be running a surplus, and to have money “in the bank”.

Let’s think of a budget surplus, a government budget surplus, another way.  It is well known that the money governments spend on essential services and God knows what else, is taxpayer money.  So, when a government says, “we have a budget surplus of $1 Billion”, what they’re effectively saying is “we’ve got $1 Billion of your money, that we’re not willing to spend just yet.  In fact, we won’t spend it, and we may even increase it in the next budget.”

So, what would you rather?  A government who takes billions of our dollars, only to “save some of it for a rainy day”?  Or would you rather a government who spent all of the taxpayer money they collected on essential services, investments in infrastructure, and investments in jobs?

Sure, government debt is damaging – if it’s high, out of control debt.  Just ask the Eurozone.  But low, well-managed government debt, can be a sound way of managing taxpayer money, and an effective way of investing in the future of the populace.  But of course, it seems all politicians and the media are programmed into thinking “debt bad, surplus good.”

In the event of a budget surplus, the taxpayers should have a case for demanding their money back.  How you would divvy it up is another matter, but governments shouldn’t be allowed to just take our money, and then not spend it all.  In essence, the populace is being taxed too highly if a government runs a surplus.

Jan 19 2012

Across the Wall

The killer stood by his victim, weapon poised, waiting for the right time to strike.  Bang!!  The victim’s legs still twitch and writhe; the job is not quite done.  Bang!!
“Sarah?” he said.
“Yes Carl?”
“I need to clean up in here.”  The victim’s innards are splattered against the wall; it’s almost artistic, thinks Carl.
“Paper towel,” Sarah said, handing Carl the roll.  “You sure made a mess of him.”
“That I did,” said Carl.  “I’m just glad he’s dead.”  And with that, he wiped the dead spider from the wall.

Jan 10 2012

The Bickering Lot

It all started when Pam Pickering’s lemon slice beat Margery McDonald’s vanilla slice in the town bake-off two years ago.  Ever since, the once close neighbours have been at each other’s throats, with Margery accusing Pam of cheating.  Pam rejects the claims, saying it’s just “sour grapes” on Margery’s part, adding mockingly: “They aren’t a very smart secret ingredient.”

Meanwhile, their husbands, Jim Pickering and Kelvin McDonald, can’t understand what all the fuss is about.  They meet three times a week in a ‘garden shed’ shared by both properties.
“Marge is still going on about that bake-off,” Kelvin said to Jim during their weekly drinking session.
“God, tell me about it,” Jim said, cracking open another can.  “That’s the only thing Pam will talk about.  That and my snoring.  Bloody women.  Always focusing on the negatives, always arguing over the most trivial things.”
“Bloody women indeed,” said Kelvin.  “Pass us another can, would ya?”
Jim threw him another can.
“I’m not sure whether I can take much more of this bickering,” Jim said.  “It’s driving me up the wall.”
“You’re telling me,” Kelvin said.  “All Margery does with her days is to try and come up with a recipe to trump your Pam.  Our grocery bill is the highest it’s been in years – around $200 a week.  It doesn’t leave much money for the grog.”
“That’s terrible!!” Jim exclaimed.  “All that unbought booze going to waste down other people’s throats.  It’s definitely a problem we need to address.”
“Too right,” said Kelvin.

A few days later, Pam was in her backyard, weeding her vegetable garden and picking the odd carrot and tomato.  She was just about to go back inside when, out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed something fly over the side fence.  She turned to look, and something else flew over the fence.  Upon closer inspection they turned out to be weeds.  She looked over the fence to see Margery throwing the weeds she was picking over the fence.
“Oi!!  What do you think you’re doing?” Pam said, glaring at Margery.
“What does it look like you silly old hag?” Margery replied.  “I’m weeding.”
“And throwing your weeds over our fence,” said Pam.  She picked up one of the weeds and threw it at Margery, hitting her between the eyes.
“You bitch!!” she shrieked.  She threw a weed and hit Pam in the mouth.  “There, have some lunch.”
“You little hussy!!” Pam shouted, and soon an all-out weed war was in full-swing, with both women receiving significant blows.
“You old bag, I ought to put kerosene in your knickers!!” Pam said, hurling more weeds at Margery.
“Oh yeah?” said Margery.  “I ought to put itching powder in yours, then you might actually feel something for a change!!”
By this stage, Jim and Kelvin had assembled on their respective patios, giving each other knowing looks whilst their wives fought out World War 3.  It wasn’t long before the women became physically worn out.  They both fell to their knees, trying to catch their breath.
“Here Marge,” said Kelvin, helping her to her feet, “I’ll go make you a cup of tea.”
“Stupid bitch,” said Margery, “Deserves everything that’s coming to her.  Who sells itching powder in this town?”
On the other side of the fence, Pam slowly got to her feet and trudged inside.
“Jim, fix us up a lemonade would you?  My throat is parched.”
“Would you like me to get you a wet towel as well?” he asked.
“Why?” she replied.
“Have a look at yourself in the mirror,” Jim said, cutting a lemon.  “Then you’ll see.”
Pam walked to the bathroom and looked in horror at the scratch marks all down her face, some of them bleeding.
“That little slut!!” she shrieked.  “She’ll pay for this.”

The 2006 Laundon bake-off had been the most anticipated bake-off since its inception.  For eight years, it was a forgone conclusion that Margery McDonald’s vanilla slice was unbeatable.  Nothing anyone else ever baked came close to Margery’s creamy vanilla slices.  That was until Pam and Jim Pickering moved next door to the McDonald’s in early 2003.  Word around town was that Pam was working on a recipe to challenge that famous vanilla slice.  The news didn’t seem to faze Margery; if anything it seemed to spur her on to extend her winning streak.  In the next few bake-offs, Pam came close to beating Margery, but despite this rivalry, they remained close friends.

The day of the 2006 bake-off was miserable, much like a Kevin Rudd press conference.  The heavens had opened the night before and had continued steadily into the morning, leaving the local showgrounds drenched, even with the tarpaulin set up for the day’s competitions.  After completing the other competitions (including Laundon’s Largest Vegetable, won by “Crazy” Gladys Maroni’s 64cm zucchini), it was time for the bake-off.  After dealing with the other entries, including Gladys Maroni’s zucchini and vegemite cake, it came down to Pam Pickering’s lemon slice and Margery McDonald’s famous vanilla slice.  First up was Pam’s offering.  The chief judge, Gary Glass, sampled Pam’s slice.
“Mmmm.  Nice texture, good taste, very nice aftertaste.  Nine out of ten.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Pam, who seemed a little surprised at how well she went.  Gary then moved onto Margery’s vanilla slice, almost licking his lips in anticipation.  Margery stood with a look of defiance, as if she thought she had it in the bag for the ninth year straight.  A hush fell over the residents of Laundon.
“Hmmm.  Interesting texture, a good taste, but not quite as creamy as it has been in previous years, Marge.  Seven out of ten.”
An audible gasp could be heard through the crowd.
“Gosh, poor Marge.  She must be shattered.”
“Oh dear, there goes Marge’s winning streak.”
“That’s the biggest turn-up in this town, that’s for sure.”
“Ladies and gentleman,” said Gary, hushing the crowd, “The winner of the 2006 Laundon bake-off is Pam Pickering and her lemon slice.”
The crowd broke into polite applause as Gary Glass handed the perpetual bake-off trophy to Pam.
“She cheated,” said Margery out of the blue.
“What?” said Gary.  “How?”
“She must have put something in my vanilla slice to make it taste different.”
“Or perhaps you weren’t up to it this year,” quipped Pam.
“You take that back you cheap hussy!!” yelled Margery.
“Never,” said Pam.  “Face it, my lemon slice was too good for your vanilla slice.”
“How dare you sully my vanilla slice like that!!” yelled Margery.  She launched herself at Pam, and both women went to ground, wrestling each other.  The crowd looked on astonished as camera flashes could be heard.  Laundon had not seen anything like this since that 14 year old dropped a lolly wrapper in the main street.  Finally, after about 30 seconds, the women’s husbands, Jim and Kelvin, decided to step in and separate the two women.  Both women got up off the ground, wet and absolutely filthy.  Once again, the crowd let out a gasp, and fairly soon raucous laughter could be heard.  The women, in their best white shirts, looked down their fronts to discover that their shirts had become see-through.
“Well, that puts a new spin on the wet t-shirt contest!!” joked one of the crowd.
“They look like onions in string bags!!” said another.  Both women, clearly embarrassed, went their separate ways, glaring back at each other.  Ever since, their relationship has been as sour as a lemon dipped in vinegar.

Pam Pickering ran the wet towel down her face, which stemmed the bleeding of some of her scratches.
“That bloody Margery McDonald,” she said, walking back into the kitchen.  “She’ll pay for this.”
“Pam,” Jim said, placing a lemonade in front of her, “Isn’t it about time you and Margery stopped fighting?  I mean, this nonsense has been going on for two years.”
Pam glared at him.  “Never,” she snapped.  “Not until she accepts the fact that her vanilla slice is nothing compared to my lemon slice.”
She sipped at her lemonade.  All of a sudden she started to sway in her chair.
“Oh, Jim,” she said, “I don’t feel so well.”
“What’s the matter?” Jim asked.
“I feel faint,” Pam replied.  “My head’s spinning.”  Suddenly she fell out of her chair.
“I’ll call an ambulance,” said Jim, running out of the room.

Kelvin placed a cup of tea in front of Margery.
“There you are dear,” he said.
“That Pam Pickering’s a menace,” she said.  “She thinks that she’s so good because she beat me in that bake-off.  It was only because she cheated.  I swear she slipped something into my vanilla slice that day.”
“Do you have any proof?” Kelvin asked.
“No,” Margery replied, “But I’m damn sure she did it.”
“Look Marge,” Kelvin said, “I think it’s about time you and Pam stopped fighting.  It’s been two years since that bake-off.  I think it’s about time you let go of your flawed conspiracy theory and make up with Pam.”
Margery gave him a look that would melt butter.  “Not until she admits she cheated.”
Kelvin sighed.  Suddenly there was a flash of blue light next door.
“What’s going on over there?” Margery asked.
Kelvin looked out the kitchen window.  “There’s an ambulance at the Pickering’s house.  I think they’re taking Pam.”
“Probably overcome with guilt after all this time,” quipped Margery, sipping at her tea.
Kelvin went to say something but thought better of it.  He knew trying to get Margery to become friends with Pam again was like flogging a dead horse – painful and frustrating.

Three days after Pam went into hospital, there was a knock on the McDonald’s door.  Kelvin opened it to a clearly distraught Jim.
“Jim, mate,” Kelvin said, “You look terrible.  What’s the matter?”
“It’s Pam,” Jim said.  “She might not make it.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Kelvin asked.
“She has acute anaemia,” Jim replied.  “She needs a blood transfusion within 48 hours.  The problem is, her blood type is AB negative, the rarest blood type around.  I can’t give her blood; my blood type is O positive.  How about you Kelvin?”
“Same as you mate,” Kelvin replied.
“Well,” Jim replied, “I guess there’s not much more I can do.”
With that, he turned and walked down the path, got in his car and drove off.  Kelvin shut the door and walked back to his loungeroom.
“What’s going on?” Margery asked.
“It’s Pam,” Kelvin replied.  “She needs a blood transfusion in the next 48 hours or she’ll die.  Problem is, her blood type is AB negative, the rarest type.”
“I’ve got AB negative blood,” Margery said.
Kelvin sat up in his seat.  “Really?  Margery, you need to give Pam some blood.”
“Never,” Margery said.  “She can wither and die.”
“Margery!!” Kelvin said forcefully.  “That is a poor attitude.  How can you be so callous?  Jim is a good friend of mine and I can’t stand back and watch while the love of his life dies of a potentially preventable cause.  You need to put your pettiness behind you.  Would you be able to live with yourself knowing you could have saved her life?  Quit thinking about yourself for once and do something for someone else for a change.”
Margery sat in her chair, looking like a scolded schoolgirl.  Kelvin had never spoken to her like that.  She knew what had to be done.

Pam Pickering awoke in her hospital bed to Margery McDonald standing over her.
“About time you woke up,” Margery quipped.  “Good to see my blood worked for you.”
“What?” Pam said, her voice husky and weak.  “You have AB negative blood?”
“I certainly do,” Margery replied.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Thanks would be nice,” Margery replied.  There was an awkward silence before Pam piped up.
“Marge,” she said, “I have a confession to make.  I spiked your vanilla slice at the 2006 bake-off.”
“I knew it!!” Margery yelled.  “What did you use?”
“Some of my haemorrhoid cream,” Pam replied.  “It’s potent stuff.  I’m sorry Marge.”
Margery looked at Pam, a woman she had despised for the past two years, and instead of feeling aggrieved, she felt strangely happy.
“You know what?” Margery said.  “I don’t think it matters.  The bake-off was two years ago, and you won it, albeit unfairly.”
Pam managed a weak smile.  “It’s good to be friends again.”
“It certainly is,” Margery said.  “It certainly is.”

Two weeks after Pam came out of hospital, both couples had tea at the McDonald’s house – roast lamb followed by apple pie.  Afterwards, both couples moved to the McDonald’s loungeroom for some tea and Margery’s famous vanilla slice, sans Pam’s haemorrhoid cream.
“So Jim,” said Kelvin, “Your turn to get the beer tomorrow.”
“No,” Jim replied, “I believe it’s your turn.”
“No, no, no,” Kelvin said, “I got it last time.  It’s your turn.”
“No,” Jim said, slightly agitated, “I got it last time.  It’s definitely your turn.”
“No it’s not!!” Kelvin yelled.  “I paid for it last time!!  It’s your turn to get it!!”
“Hey, fellas, settle down,” Pam said.  “Does it really matter whose turn it is?”
“Yes,” Jim replied.  “I paid for it last time, so it’s Kelvin’s turn.”
The argument continued on in a similar vein for some minutes, before Pam decided it was best to go home before the two men came to blows.  The women farewelled each other politely, whilst the men shouted obscenities at each other.
“You cheating bastard!!” Jim yelled as Pam pulled him out the door.  “You know it’s your turn for the beer!!”
“Bullshit!!” Kelvin yelled back.  “You’re just a bloody tight-arse who doesn’t want to pay for the grog!!”

Over the next few weeks, Jim and Kelvin continued on with their beer argument.  Meanwhile, their wives, Pam and Margery, can’t understand what all the fuss is about.

Dec 30 2011

New Years Baby

Whilst others will be downing copious amounts of alcohol to bring in the New Year tomorrow, I will (also) be celebrating the anniversary of my birth.

When I was younger, I lived with a sort of self-inflicted shame of my birthday being the last day of the year.  It was always a source of disappointment for me when New Year’s Eve turned into New Year’s Day that it would be a full year until it was my birthday again.  I would always wish for my birthday to be the day after, on New Year’s Day.  I still feel that now, but the disappointment is less (probably because I’m getting older). I don’t mind so much having my birthday on the last day of the year.  For some reason, which I cannot explain, I now feel unique, and rather special, for being a New Year’s Eve baby.

So remember this New Year’s Eve, when you’re downing your umpteenth alcoholic beverage, spare a thought for those unique, special people (me included) who are also celebrating their birthday.  In fact, have an extra one for them.

Dec 27 2011

What to say, what to do…

Why can’t this be easy?

She dominates your thoughts, your dreams, just about every waking hour of your existence, to the point where a simple “want to catch up?” text message feels like the most arduous, tortuous experience.

You feel like just letting your emotions spill out right there and then, but you know that is not the honourable thing to do.  That sort of thing belongs in the face to face domain, not via text.

Your mind is constantly playing out the scenario in your head, constantly making refinements.  Sometimes you feel you will breeze through it, other times you feel as though you’ll fall in a heap.  You haven’t had much experience in this field, making the task all the more difficult.

So, what to say?  What to do?

You feel as though your pride is being dented every time you make contact with her – “What will she think when she sees my text?  “Will she want to catch up?”  The main question that rattles through your mind though, is “Am I pestering her?  Am I pissing her off by sending her these messages?”

You feel as though your pride will be dented if you ever pluck up the courage to ask her out – “Will she accept?  Reject?  Will she still want to still be friends if she says no?”  However, you feel as though you have to let her know how you feel, before it’s too late, so as not to have any regrets later on, so as not to “die wondering.”

You do all these things, ask all these internal questions, because you’ve had bad experiences with women in the past.  You have endured the failure of a long-term relationship, one you thought was going places.  Your trust of women has been shot to pieces, and you feel that a rejection now (a ‘smaller’ rejection, but a rejection nonetheless), will set you back further, make it harder for you in future.  Your pride doesn’t want to go back to the smash repairers for another major repair.

I am, of course, referring to myself, dear reader.  I have had these feelings for a particular female friend for quite a while now, close to about 4 or 5 months.  I don’t see her as often as I would like to, which frustrates me.  I want to catch up with her as often as possible, yet not come across as desperate to catch up.  I have a suspicious mind when it comes to thinking others have suspicious minds (if that makes sense).

And so dear reader, I ask of your help.  If you have any helpful suggestions, anything you think may help me in my plight, please comment.  The more varied responses I can get, the better.  And please, only constructive and helpful suggestions required; anything I deem otherwise will be deleted.

Dec 26 2011

Debunking the Santa myth and the “Christmas Spirit”

The Santa Myth
Let me get this straight – a fat, bearded bloke, all dressed in red, is driven around the world once a year by a bunch of genetically modified reindeer in a sleigh big enough for the gifts of 1 Billion+ children, gifts made by elves, some of whom are reportedly 1000 years or more, in a place most would associate with a sweatshop, but is more commonly referred to as a ‘toyshop’.  He then breaks into the houses by ‘magically’ squeezing down a chimney (assuming chimneys still exist on the houses of today), leaves the gifts under the trees in those houses whilst snacking on cookies and various beverages, and he’s back to the North Pole by Christmas Day.

This man also has a ‘List’, which is split in two – a ‘Nice List’ and a ‘Naughty List’ (I know which ‘List’ I’ll be on for writing this), a ‘List’ he constantly updates for those he delivers gifts to.  I can only assume he is able to keep this ‘List’ due to his amazing telepathic powers, or due to some highly advanced form of surveillance on the children of the world.  If it were the latter, I’m surprised the CIA haven’t yet employed him.

In any other circumstance, we would laugh this off as utterly impossible and tell old Uncle Barney to lay off the Malt Liquor, yet instead we feed this story to our kids, year after year.

The story of Santa, or Saint Nicholas, is derived from the Dutch figure Sinterklaas, and according to a tradition traceable back to the 1820s, he lives at the North Pole with his army of elves and reindeer, preparing year round to be ready for his special trip on Christmas Eve.

I can understand the logic behind the telling of this story to our kids – the joy, and the magic, of a jolly man, bringing happiness to the children of the world by delivering gifts to them at the special time of year that is Christmas.

Don’t get me wrong; I love Christmas time.  I love the colourful decorations, I love the giving and receiving of gifts, I love the food, I love the time off work, but most of all, I love the time spent with family and celebrating the year with those whose time you cherish most.  Christmas, to me, is about these things and these things alone.

When relaying these thoughts to others recently, I was told of a quote from Miracle on 34th Street (a film, I must admit, I am yet to see) – “Which is better?  To believe a lie that draws a smile?  Or a truth that draws a tear?”  My response to it is – let’s not tell this story to our children in the first place, and give them the “truth that draws a tear” upfront, early on in the piece, rather than the “lie that draws a smile”.  Sometimes, you’ve got to be cruel to be kind, and this, I believe, is one of those occasions – give our children the hard answer now, and they’ll be better off in the long run.  After all, what’s the inevitable reaction when they eventually find out the fat man doesn’t exist?

I’m not saying it’s wrong to tell our children the Santa story – after all, it’s healthy to have a bit of make believe now and then – all I’m saying is, I don’t particularly like the practise much anymore.  I suppose my thoughts on the subject will be tempered somewhat when I have children, but right now, I’ll have my truth and tear to go, thanks.

The “Christmas Spirit”
It is also around this time of year that I hear constant references to the “Christmas Spirit”, and when I get angry or frustrated at someone or about something, the question is often asked: “Where’s your ‘Christmas Spirit’?” to which I respond, “I’ve got beer in the fridge.  And no, you can’t have any.”

The notion of “Christmas Spirit”, to me, is ludicrous.  Seemingly just because it’s coming up to Christmas time, everyone is meant to be imbued with some sort of seasonal feeling of joy, which all of a sudden magically disappears as soon as Christmas has passed us by again. If I want to be happy, I’ll be happy, but if I want to be angry/grumpy, I will be, regardless of the time of year.

Having worked in the retail industry, the “Christmas Spirit” was often in play – customers you would dread at any other time of year would wish you a “Merry Christmas”, or ask “What are you doing for Christmas?” when at any other time of year you wouldn’t be worth the time of day to these people.  If you can be nice to someone at Christmas time, you can be nice to them all year round.

Another thing that gets my goat is people telling me I’m a “Grinch” for expressing these views about Santa and the “Christmas Spirit”.  Well, if I’m a “Grinch” for expressing these views, so be it.  Christmas is a time for family, a time for celebration and a time for merriment, not a time for untruths and a supposed seasonal liking of your fellow man for one month of the year.

So, a Merry Christmas to all, and celebrate how you intend to celebrate; just don’t tell me to continue to embrace the story of a fat North Pole resident whilst under the influence of your “Christmas Spirit”.

Dec 25 2011

Well, hello there…

Hello fellow web users.  My name is Cameron, and welcome to my blog.

This is my first foray into the world of web publishing, which I expect to be a rather interesting and challenging experience.

To find out more about how I will try to operate this blog, read the “About” section.

So please sit back, relax and enjoy my offerings.