Its Christmas day.
Ok, so this is being written the day before, but you get what I mean.
I love Christmas.
A lot of people get cynical and harsh around the holidays, but not me.
I spend most of the year in that mode, so the holidays are when I let it go.
Besides, I get to indulge my biggest addiction.
Bigger than caffeine, and THAT is saying something.
Nope, this addiction I have been battling for a long time, going back into my childhood.
And Christmas is when I can have it as much as I want an no one says a word.
Egg nog? Nope.
Candy canes? Nope.
It’s a Wonderful Life.
Jimmy Stewart is the shit.
One of the top five best films I have ever seen.
I don’t even argue this one with people.
If its not in your top five, you are just wrong.
George Bailey is the man all men should aspire to be.
And yet, we all fall short.
And his wife was hot.
Evil as it is to be lusting after Mrs. Bailey, there is no getting around that one.
(Not everyone gets what they want for Christmas. People don’t get the pony they wanted and I don’t get my session of “Bad Baby” with a liqoured up Mary Bailey. Life goes on.)
But I gave some serious thought to why I love that movie so much.
It is a story of hope.
Not that “Hey, you look stupid enough to vote for me” Hope and give me all your change.
But the hope that everything will work out.
Nothing does what it is supposed to these days.
Hell, even the end of the world didn’t go like it was supposed to.
Damn the Mayans and their silly calendar.
I have a cousin that said he didn’t buy any gifts because he was kind of counting on the end of the world.
That may make you laugh for a minute, but he was still up at 5am today shopping for all of Christmas in one day.
More power to you.
Took a little break just know and I am halfway thru Its a Wonderful Life.
This will be my fifth time this year.
And I just discovered something.
Old man Potter, in addition to being the epitome of the rich bastard, is also a big time racist.
The scene is a pivotal one.
George Bailey is sitting in Potter’s office, and Potter is trying to get him to give up on the Savings and Loan. (Subtext – Metaphor for his soul. )
“Yes, sir, trapped into frittering his life away playing nursemaid to a lot of garlic-eaters. Do I paint a correct picture, or do I exaggerate?”
Its a classic hate the shit out of me line.
It removes any guilt you might have for hating Potter outright.
Maybe that is the secret to Christmas.
Hate is ok.
At least it will keep you warm at night.
Winter can get cold.
However, rather than risk offending the shade of George Bailey, I will leave you with this.
There is some good out there, you kind of just have to look for it.
I am fairly certain it doesn’t exist here, but its out there.
Its not something a politician can take from someone else and give to you, but its something you have to make happen for yourself.
But their very nature, victories are won, not given.
And you tend to appreciate them more.
Merry Christmas to you all.