The phony war on T-Day is over, the fake war on Xmas begins

The annual late November gratitude day/food orgy that we in the US call Thanksgiving is officially over, and the Christmas/winter holiday season has begun. This Thanksgiving was marked by, among other things, #NotMyPresident Donald J. Trump's declaration, at one of his fascist emotional support pep rallies in Sunrise, Florida on November 26, that there's a radical leftist plot to decimate T-Day by changing its name. And thus did the world learn of a new phony war to join the infamous phony war on Christmas: the war on Thanksgiving.

It's all just part of a larger pattern, of course. As Emily Stewart wrote in the Vox piece I linked to above:

The president has leaned into culture wars often throughout his tenure, aware that it’s a way to rally his base and sow division. Declaring out of the blue that there’s a movement on the left to change the name of Thanksgiving is another example of that. But the episode also highlights the president’s dismissiveness of issues with some real cultural and social weight. While Thanksgiving’s name isn’t particularly controversial, its history is.

But Trump seemed to be making it all about the name. He told the Florida crowd that "some people" don't want to use the term "Thanksgiving," adding, "And that was also true with Christmas. But now everybody's using Christmas again. Remember I said that?" A November 26 piece on The Hill site cited Trump's long-standing "war on Christmas" narrative, noting that back in 2015 he said, "I'm a good Christian. If I become president, we're going to be saying 'Merry Christmas' at every store."

Though Trump has since declared victory in the war on Christmas, he told the Florida rally attendees, "Now we're going to have to do a little work on Thanksgiving. People have different ideas. Why it shouldn't be called Thanksgiving. But everybody in this room, I know, loves the name Thanksgiving. And we're not changing.”

Naturally, this declaration gave rise to a spate of jeering memes and tweets, but this didn't seem to faze Trump or his followers at all.

Elsewhere on the culture-war battlefield, Donald Trump Jr. boldly marched forward with his own plan to enhance the sacred holiday of Thanksgiving. As you may know, he recently released his first book, Triggered, about which I wrote a very long post last week (and have added several updates since then). Flush with the early success of that magnum dopus, he used his Instagram page to announce a holiday giveaway: he invited the deplorables to "trigger a liberal" by bringing up politics around the T-Day table. Whoever shared the best photo or vid of the resulting conflict would win a signed copy of Triggered and a MAGA hat. What a deal!

Maybe I'm just too easily triggered myself, but in general I don't think it's funny to encourage people to create disharmony among loved ones, shoot videos of the results, and upload them for the world's amusement. For instance, I am not amused by Jimmy Kimmel's annual Halloween stunt in which he invites parents to tell their kids that the parents ate all of the child's Halloween candy, and then record the almost inevitable tantrum and upload the vid. I think it's pretty crass.

But I also think that Kimmel's stunt pales in comparison to DJTJ's "contest." There's surely enough family stress during the holidaze as it is -- always has been, given the way holiday expectations can amplify existing family dysfunctions. As many folks have learned from first-hand experience, the problem has only become worse in the era of Trump. While Daddy Trump and the GOP are busy blaming the Democrats and liberals for the deep divisiveness in the US, and while the elder Trump has also been bloviating about a spurious war on Thanksgiving, Junior's stunt constitutes more of a "war" on the holiday than anything that the left is allegedly doing. And far from being an attempt to heal divisions, it's only deepening the gap.

But if the responses of that Florida crowd to Junior's daddy are any indication, these finer points are likely to be lost on devoted Trumpians, who will embrace the phony T-Day war as eagerly as they have the Xmas war.

I wish these bogus battles were just comic relief, on the level of the absurd stuff I used to write about so much in Whirled Musings' younger days, like dolphin worship and hollow-earth theories and imaginary naked blondes in Russian forests and phony mystical poets and multidimensional Stick People and magickal water and so forth. In historical context, however, the phony holiday wars may have a more disturbing significance.
 
In a November 27 piece, Washington Post columnist Max Boot suggested that as silly as the Trumped-up narrative about a "war on Thanksgiving" is, there's also something sinister about it, given the decades-long history of (conservative) complaints about the so-called "war on Christmas." Notorious racist/anti-Semite Henry Ford groused about the secularization of Christmas back in the early 1920s, blaming the Jews for the phenomenon. In the height of the McCarthy era of the 1950s, the far-right John Birch Society claimed that the Commies and the UN were engaged in an operation to take Christ out of Christmas. And infamous conservative mouthpiece Bill O'Reilly claimed in 2004 that Christmas was "under siege" by "secular progressives" who were trying to force gay marriage, partial-birth abortion, legalized drugs, and a host of other "progressive visions" on America. From there, wrote Boot...

It did not take long for Trump — Fox News’s most faithful and credulous viewer — to join the “War on Christmas” as a full-throated combatant. By doing so, he gets to portray himself as a champion of white Christian America against insidious “Others” who, his followers fear, will destroy the country they know and love.

And this year Trump decided to do the same thing for Thanksgiving. It was, I suppose, inevitable. Even though T-Day is a secular rather than a religious holiday, and it's one that happens to be observed by millions people of all faiths in the United States (other countries have their own Thanksgiving holidays too at various times of the year), the last Thursday in November is a natural focal point for the ongoing culture wars that conservatives in the US insist on fighting. Given America's changing demographics, it's only natural to examine historical events -- including that fabled first Thanksgiving -- through lenses other than those of the white European Christians who once constituted the majority of the US populace. Many of these folks are understandably triggered by such "revisionist" histories. Indeed, as Max Boot wrote in the wrap-up to his WaPo piece:

Trump’s white evangelical followers — the core of his base — are terrified that they are fast losing power in a country they once dominated. Hence their fanatical support for Trump as “the chosen one” and their disparagement of his critics as “demonic.” A skilled demagogue, Trump unerringly taps into their anxiety with his risible claims about a war on Christmas and now a war on Thanksgiving.

Even so, as Emily Stewart wrote in the Vox article I linked to at the beginning of this post (here's that link again), it's not unreasonable to invite people to look at Thanksgiving through the eyes of folks for whom the holiday may have meanings that aren't in sync with the traditional happy-feast scenario. To many Native Americans, for instance, the holiday serves as a reminder of the atrocities indigenous peoples suffered when Europeans landed in the "New World." Add to that the fact that the story about the Pilgrims and the Native Americans is not an accurate one, and there's a sound basis for a counter-holiday, the National Day of Mourning, which has been observed for nearly half a century in Plymouth, Massachusetts by indigenous people and their allies. But that's hardly some contemporary liberal plot to destroy Thanksgiving. It's not even an initiative to change the name of Thanksgiving. It's just an alternative and arguably more inclusive holiday.

In addition, some environmental groups are promoting awareness of the environmental impact of Thanksgiving, including the enormous quantities of food consumed (and wasted), as well as the impact of travel. As painfully PC as these considerations may be to the climate/environmental science denial camp, though, they still don't qualify as a war against T-Day.

Disappointing as it may be to the pearl-clutching culture warriors, there is no actual war against any of our cherished holidays, other than the wars that are playing out in the heads of cynical political opportunists and the frightened, gullible people whom they are stringing along like so many gaudy Christmas lights. Besides, technically Trump didn't really "win" the phony Xmas war anyway. People are still saying, "Happy Holidays," as in fact, they've been saying (and singing) for decades.

May you have joyful holidays, no matter how many of them you do or don't celebrate. I'll be back in December, which is just around the corner. And you won't see any war on Christmas on this Whirled: to the contrary I intend to deck these (recently refurbished) halls with an ever-changing festive background to celebrate the season.

Ruining Christmas redux

Tonight -- Christmas Eve 2018, or rather what's left of it -- my husband Ron Kaye and I celebrate 25 years of living together. (Not of being married -- that came much later -- but of living together.) Last year when we were almost but not quite at the quarter-century mark, I wrote a post that both celebrated that almost-anniversary and pondered the ways in which Christmas can be tarnished if not ruined by various factors, some born of our own unrealistic expectations, and some, such as profound personal losses, over which we have no control. I titled my screed "Ruining Christmas" as a nod to my mom's accusation, which became somewhat of a family joke, that the disruption in my personal life on that Christmas Eve in 1993 was ruining the holiday for the entire family. (Spoiler: It wasn't.) But rather than taking the time to pound out a recap, I'll just provide you with the link.

Notwithstanding my Christmas Eve 2017 meditation on losses and holiday sadness, Ron and I had a joyful Christmas and post-Christmas with friends and family, though there was an empty chair at the Christmas dinner table where our recently-departed friend Alma would have sat. (We set a place for her anyway.) But in a way our delightful holiday was the calm before the storm. I cannot say that 2018 has been nearly as joyous as Christmas was; to the contrary, we've been through hell and (mostly) back since early in the year, but here we are, still together, and still planning to celebrate the next couple of days with some of the people we love most in the world.

Our small gathering will provide a brief reprieve from the toxic red swirl of politix and worries about the state of the world. While the current occupant of the White House spends Christmas amongst his wife's garish blood-colored trees, throwing tantrums over his silly wall and bitching about the "war on Christmas," we'll be enjoying a scaled-down but nonetheless loving celebration of friendship and food. We're not going to let any mad king ruin our holiday, though I can't help but be concerned about the folks for whom he really has ruined the holiday by fueling the partial government shutdown. Shame on his orange ass.

And by the way, you may already know this, but just in case you don't... there really was a war on Christmas once upon a time, but it was perpetrated by Christians.

There's no war on Christmas in this household of liberals, unless you count our cats' determination to wreck the halls. But there's no malice in their destruction; in fact, knocking down decorations, tearing down carefully arranged displays, and eating and then projectile-vomiting Christmas trimmings is the way they celebrate the occasion.

My own love for the holiday endures, and more than that, my love for the man who helped me "ruin Christmas" 25 years ago shines on even more brightly than the solar light that our late friend Alma gave to us.

My wish for you this year is the same as it was last year. May you not be overwhelmed with what you have lost but instead be grateful for what you still have. I wish you peace and comfort and good times now and throughout the coming year, no matter which holidays you do or don't celebrate. And I'll be back in the New Year, or maybe even before, with more Whirledly topics.

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Thank you

I've used the above picture on a previous post here, but I'm using it again because...well...I think it pretty much says it all. It's a nod not only to my favorite scene in one of my very favorite movies of all times, Joe Versus The Volcano (which celebrates its 20th anniversary next year), but also to what I think Thanksgiving Day is all about. And even if you don't happen to live in a country that celebrates the holiday, I hope you always find something to be thankful about. And I want you to know that I am truly thankful for each and every one of you– those who love this blog, and, yes, even those who aren't so fond of it. (And I think some of you who aren't so fond should be thankful for me as well. You're getting a lot of free lessons in marketing and other matters on this Whirled.) I'll be back to snarky mode in short order, but I'm taking a little time off from that...just for today.

PS ~ One of the things I'm thankful for is that I've recently made a new friend, Martha Finney, who believes Joe Versus The Volcano is "the most underrated and underappreciated and misunderstood movie of all time." Visit her web site and read her blogs. And, oh, yeah, watch Joe Versus The Volcano.

I wish to register a complaint

I don't know about you, but I am getting a little weary of hearing about the ways our elected representatives are wasting time and taxpayer money introducing silly resolutions, particularly to designate Special Days, Weeks, Months, Years or Centuries. The purpose of these special designations is allegedly to commemorate people, places, animals, industries, events, ideas, insects, sports, states of mind, pastimes, diseases, habits, social problems, tics, hygiene habits or what have you that are either worthy of Special Recognition or are serious problems that need to be Eliminated In Our Lifetime. But the real purpose of most of these resolutions is for the people introducing them to draw attention to themselves and/or to make it appear that they are actually doing something useful (or in some cases, to draw attention away from other things they are doing).

Whatever the motives, the fact is that we are already full up to here with officially and unofficially recognized periods of time. In addition to all of the usual holidays and awareness weeks and months, we have – to give just a few examples – Mold Awareness Month (September), Getting The World To Beat A Path To Your Door Week (which falls on October 14-20 this year), and National Underwear Day (August 13; oops, I missed it again).

Of course it is not just the United States' elected representatives who are at fault here. Stupid Holiday Syndrome is a worldwide affliction. F'rinstance, the United Nations has declared 2008 to be:

• International Year of Languages
• International Year of Planet Earth
• International Year of The Potato
• International Year of Sanitation

Those seem like pretty tough acts to follow, and I can't help but wonder how 2009 will be designated. May I suggest...

• International Year of Nonverbal Communication
• International Year of Planet Uranus
• International Year of The Turnip
• International Year of Filth

If you want a more comprehensive list of wacko holidays, you have only to click here.

Now comes the news of a proposed resolution, House Resolution H.CON.RES.404, to officially declare the day before Thanksgiving "Complaint Free Wednesday" in the good old US of A. The reasoning behind this resolution seems to be that the US is the can-do optimistic capital of the world, and that complaining is a bad thing that damages health, relationships and everything else. The resolution even states that violence often begins with complaining.

Never mind that the United States owes its very existence to complaints, such as that little list of gripes the original Colonists had with the Crown a few years back. Actually, those complaints did lead to violence, in the form of the American Revolution, so I guess that kind of proves the resolution makers' point. In any case, that stuff is ancient history. That was then, this is now. A positive mental attitude is what we need today. That's what really made this country great.

Complaint Free Wednesday was actually inspired by the Complaint Free World franchise perpetrated by Will Bowen, a Unity Church minister in Kansas City, Missouri. I did a drive-by snark about this last December, on my way to shooting at more serious issues. Complaint Free World is now a burgeoning industry that has given rise to books, DVDs, blogs, web sites, workshops, and, of course, tacky plastic bracelets (purple ones, in this case). There's even a Complaint Free Quick Start Collection that includes Will Bowen's book, a T-shirt, a bumper sticker and a bracelet. And there's going to be a Complaint Free Cruise in April of 2009. (Let's see how complaint-free the cruisers remain if a food-borne illness breaks out on the cruise ship, as happens so often these days.) Not surprisingly, some of today's top New-Wage hustledorks, recognizing an opportunity to put more money in their coffers...I mean, to make a Real Difference in the world...have jumped on the Complaint-Free bandwagon in a big way.

The Complaint Free Wednesday Resolution was introduced by Congressman Sam Graves (R-Missouri), who seems to be kind of a big-oil-friendly, not-so-green kind of guy, and anti-abortion to boot. Like most politicians on any side of any issue, he'd probably welcome a world with fewer complaints. It would sure make his job easier. Here's a link to a PDF of his proposed bill.

My pal Blair Warren, I am pleased to note, has been tackling this issue on his Twitter page. Yesterday he observed:

Some teach that if we just stop complaining our lives would improve. But if it turns out it doesn't work, they do not want to hear about it.

Amen to that. In fact, one of the leading proponents of the Complaint Free World gimmick (a guy who happens to be known to both Blair and me) has made it a regular policy to tune out negativity of any sort. For example, after Ron sent this guy a private complaint earlier this year regarding some public shenanigans being pulled by one of the man's close buddies and joint-venture partners, Mr. Positive told Ron never to write to him again. Soon after that, Ron received an auto-notice that henceforth any emails coming from our address would be flagged as spam by Mr. Positive's spam filter. See No Evil and all that. Well, that's one way of staying positive.

Regarding the Complaint Free Resolution, Blair also wrote:

A bill to make the day before Thanksgiving Complaint Free Wednesday? How about Suck-it-Up Sunday or Make-believe Monday? Let's think BIG!

Y'know, those are actually pretty good ideas. In any case, I think that if Congressman Graves really cared about making a difference, he would have suggested designating Complaint-Free Friday – the day after Thanksgiving, aka the Busiest Shopping Day Of The Year in the US. Maybe there'd be a little less hollering and screaming and clawing and fighting as customers trample over each other to grab the latest trendoid toys for their already seriously overindulged spawn.

BTW, according to the site I linked to above, today, August 18, is Bad Poetry Day. I am not sure if this is a national or an international holiday, but in any event, if Whirled Musings' resident bad poet, HHH (who hails from the UK), is reading this, he's welcome to write a commemorative bad poem.

And, of course, every day is Send Cosmic Connie Lots of Money Day. But so far, I am sorry to report, no one has observed it in the proper way.

Not that I'm complaining.

Joy to the Whirled

It's been another holly jolly Christmas, rich with the holiday traditions we always enjoy in this household. For example, I spent this Christmas morning picking up pieces of thrown-up Christmas garland from the cats' part of the house, a joyous activity that I wrote about last year. I can only thank Goddess we don't have a Christmas tree.


I was actually going to write a special Christmas post today, but I just don't have the presence of mind for that right now. As it turns out, though, SHAMblog's Steve Salerno pretty much captured my thoughts about the meaning of the season, and other matters of consequence, on his own Xmas blog post today.

Personally, I must say, [Christmas is] also the one day when I find myself focusing my thoughts and emotions on the single pivotal issue left unaddressed by the impeccable logic (and dismissive smugness) of books like The God Delusion: How did nothing come from something? I understand, I guess, how we got from amoebas to A-Rod, from paramecia to Paris Hilton (though some might say the latter isn't much of an evolution). But how did we get from a perfect void to amoebas? And please, oh please, don't bring up string theory or unified fields. Not on Christmas...

I think Steve makes a pretty good case for, at the very least, sticking with agnosticism, as opposed to veering off into atheist territory. Come to think of it, I addressed some of these issues on my own Yule blog post last year.

And now as I write this, Christmas is almost over (and in fact is over in some parts of the world, where Boxing Day has already begun). I feel no guilt for having taken the lazy way out by letting one of my blogmates (and my last year's self) do most of my blogging today. Matter of fact, I took the lazy way out with Christmas dinner too, letting Ron and his daughter do most of the cooking of our traditional Christmas dinner, which this year was smoked brisket, barbecued boneless pork ribs, potato salad, deviled eggs, artichoke dip, etc. It was kind of like a Fourth of July picnic – July In Christmas, so to speak.

All things considered, it's been a pretty good holiday, and I hope yours was good as well. I leave you now with a little gift that a friend of mine sent to me: a link to what he describes as "a chuckle-inducing thread from the Secret Forum of a bunch of Secretrons discussing sex in a manner that makes Beavis & Butthead look scholarly.” It's not really about Christmas per se, but laughter is one of the best gifts one can give, so here it is.

Even snarks celebrate Thanksgiving

Good gosh, is it time for another Thanksgiving post already?* Seems like I just wrote one of those things a year or so ago.


Although I snipe and snark a lot on this blog, there is, believe it or not, at least one point on which I am pretty much in agreement with the conspicuously enlightened, the aggressively motivated, and the tyrannically positive. And that point has to do with the power of gratitude. As you may very well be aware, there is even research that indicates being grateful may be good for you in more ways than you might think. I know, I know, it's an appealing concept, and it sells books. Even worse, the gratitude industry is a whole new area to be exploited by New-Wage hustlers. But, as Canadian songwriter/singer/poet/novelist Leonard Cohen wrote, "That don't make it junk" (yes, I know, he wrote that in a totally different context than what I'm talking about, but I thought this blog was a bit overdue for a quotation from LC).

I'm not going to bore y'all with my own gratitude list; I'll just say that once again Ron is at the top of that list. I'm also grateful for my family and friends – in short, all of the people in my life, including the four-legged ones.

Other than that, I'm not going to go on and on about gratitude, except to say that I am grateful for other bloggers who, over the past week or so, have provided some entertaining and informative links. I now gladly pass those links on to you. You may have already seen these, but if not, click away.

The first one comes from Amy, commenting on Lana Helmuth-Walker's blog. This is a link to a video that skewers The Secret. It's one of the funnier videos I've seen.

The second link, provided by Steve Salerno on his SHAMblog, is a bit more serious. It's a McGill University student's look at The Secret and self-help culture. (By the way, Leonard Cohen attended McGill University. Just thought some of y'all might want to know.)

And finally there is this link, which was on Blair Warren's blog yesterday. It's a link to a blog post about happiness, which seems relevant somehow to my own post today.

Enough blogging already. I'm off to spend some time with my family, and then Ron and I are heading out to his daughter's place, where there will be plenty of great food and great friends – including, of course, some four-legged pals. I hope all of y'all who celebrate the holiday have a good one!

PS ~ And I will deliver on my promise to inflict "Beast meets West, Part 2" on y'all. Just not today.
PPS ~ And...here's a bonus link I'd meant to add earlier but forgot to: fashion and makeup tips for women, from a very funny (if somewhat crude) guy's point of view. It has nothing to do with Thanksgiving, but...hey, I thought it was funny. (Warning: it is a bit R-rated...but then again, this blog is supposedly NC-17.) So enough warning. Here it is. (I have to say, though, that I do not agree with the writer's assessment of bitchiness. I think being a bitch is a GOOD thing.)

*I realize that it's not Thanksgiving for all of y'all who are reading this, but it is for me, and, after all, this is my Whirled.

They have risen! More good news from "down there"

Easter is the holiday when much of the world not only pays homage to the hollow-chocolate industry, but also to a big event on the Christian calendar. I am not exactly a Christian, but I like the idea of resurrection / rebirth as much as anyone else. And I'll say this for Christianity: it has been around a long time, and at least Jesus did not, to my knowledge, try to give His ideas leverage by claiming they had been proven by quantum physics.

Speaking of hollow, if you've been in my Whirled a while you know that I am fascinated with Hollow-Earth theories. What lies beneath is a perennially intriguing topic to me. Some people have long believed the interior of the Earth is home to advanced civilizations, Utopian societies, even Paradise. Others believe that's where Hell is.

Which leads me to another topic with which I am also inordinately fascinated: the Nether Worlds Reclamation Project. The latter is a project headed by Extreme Lightworker Bryan James and the Divine Mother. It seems that Bryan discovered there were some 50 million lost souls from all over creation stranded in the Nether Regions. I don't know if this was due to bad weather, missed flights, or just a poor sense of direction, but some had been stranded Down There for thousands of years.

And then Bryan came along. For several months now, he and the Divine Mother and thousands of volunteer lightworkers have been working to get these folks back to their homes. I have been periodically sharing progress reports, and I am pleased to present the latest numbers Bryan just sent to me:

100% have shown some movement
100% have opened their eyes
94% are walking around (48% without assistance)
80% are asking questions (e.g., “Who am I?” or “Where am I?”)
36% are regaining cognitive ability and attending schools
202,522 have been taken home to start a new beginning

Now, that's progress. And you can still get in on this project too. All you have to do, before you go to sleep, is ask to be taken to the Nether Worlds in your dream state. Once you get there, the Divine Mother or someone will tell you what to do. Do exactly as you're told, don't wander around the place, and don't think you can get away with stealing artifacts from Hell that you can later sell on eBay. When you wake up, or even before, send an email to Bryan at contact@circleoflights.com. For each night you serve, you'll get a free frequency acceleration activation. I'm still not sure exactly what that is, but it would normally cost you $24.99.

Anyway, I just thought you'd want to hear this happy news. It's also a heads-up, so to speak, to be on the alert as more and more lost souls return home. Although many are going home to other realms besides Earth, I am sure that a number of them are coming back here. So if you suddenly start noticing some rather odd-looking strangers in your neck of the woods who look like they've been to Hell and back again, they very well may have been. Treat them kindly.

And now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go bite the head off a hollow chocolate bunny. I hope y'all have a happy Easter, Passover, Generic Spring Holiday, or whatever you choose to celebrate.

Happy Boxing Day!

While you sit and muse on the true meaning of this holiday, The Rev and I are going to observe the day by venturing into the post-Christmas hordes to hunt and gather some boxes of our own. Some of those boxes will contain the new computers we both so desperately need. My motherboard is about to crap out and The Rev needs a new laptop. And we need 'em now. Wish us luck...

PS - Here's an entire web page devoted to Boxing Day.

Yule blog

The thing is, I am not a complete cynic, and I even have a soft spot for Christmas. For example, The Rev and I watched White Christmas the other night, as we do nearly every year. And this morning I took the time to lovingly replace, for the 152^nd time, the fake Christmas garland above the cats’ window. Furthermore, we are celebrating today by preparing a (mostly) traditional dinner for my family and a couple of close friends. And I don’t even hate Christmas music: hearing Schubert’s "Ave Maria" can bring me to tears, and there are even (dare I confess this?) a couple of Enya Christmas songs in my holiday CD mix (sorry, Chris).

Most significant of all, I am, after all these years, still a fence-sitter rather than a complete rationalist. As fond as I am of Skeptical Inquirer, the Magazine for Science and Reason, I know that science and reason alone cannot save us. I know that despite our seasonal pleas for peace on Earth there will probably always be "wars and rumors of wars," and that even though we pay lip service to morality, our moral advancement will probably never keep pace with our technology. I know that for every great advance science makes to enhance or even save our lives, somebody will more than likely use that innovation to destroy lives. If, for example, science discovers (or, some would say, finally openly admits) that sound frequencies can heal or kill, guess who’s going to rush to get their hands on the killing frequencies? Many of the truly astounding breakthroughs and discoveries – the things that once would have seemed like magic – will be co-opted by governments and war departments long before average citizens can avail themselves of the advances.

And yet faith hasn’t been able to save us either, mainly because no one can agree on the One True Faith – or, more accurately, because so few are willing to admit that there is no One True Faith. Throughout history, faith and politics have always seemed to end up in bed together, and politics always ends up on top.

Even though the true meaning of Christmas is supposed to be about faith and love, I am cynical about the holiday for all of the expected reasons: the forced cheer, the unrealistic expectations for a "perfect Christmas" that create more misery than joy, the crass consumerist frenzy that isn't mitigated at all, but only made stronger, by the sappy tales of holiday miracles. "Love transforms everything," we’re being told this season – a lofty message, but the messenger is Kohl’s department store.

(By the way, I found it interesting that according to a recent AP-AOL poll, 91 percent of whites in the US believed in Santa when they were kids, whereas only 72 percent of minorities did. Also, while 47 percent thought the Santa thing distracts from the religious message of Christmas, a puzzling (to me, anyway) 36 percent thought he enhances the religious nature of the holiday. I guess naughty-or-nice translates well into punishment/reward.)

On a more personal note, I have so far resisted embracing Christianity, although I was raised a Christian, because I simply cannot accept the "package deal." Specifically, I cannot accept that the message of Christ’s birth (and death) – events that were supposed to deliver the human race – includes a provision for eternal torment for the masses who do not accept Jesus as the One Way to salvation. And most Christians do believe this, even if they dance around it when asked, as Joel Osteen so gently and smilingly did when being grilled by Barbara Walters for her "Where is Heaven?"20/20 special.

If we are to take this belief literally, the Hellbound souls include, besides me and all of the other agnostics I know, The Rev, who is a Buddhist, as well as my Jewish friends, my Hindu and Muslim friends, my Pagan buddies, my atheist friends. No matter how ethically we try to live our lives, we are doomed in the end. That is, of course, unless we all decide to accept the Christianity package deal.

And my dogs and cats, since they lack a soul, don’t even have a chance at an afterlife.

I am well aware of the existence of nondenominational Christian paths that don’t hold to the hellfire-and-brimstone p.o.v. There are, for example, the "New Thought" churches, but the ones I’ve explored have turned out to be a little too New-Age/New-Wage for me (think The Secret and What The Bleep Do We Know?).

Yeah, I know, there’s just no pleasing me.

There are times I wish I could just glide between the world of belief and the world of disbelief at will. Some would say they’re all part of the same world anyway, and in a sense they are. And I know that many people comfortably embrace both faith and science. I also know it is possible to live a moral life without believing in God at all. But on a practical level, you can’t really flit between belief and disbelief in the way I’m talking about without ending up terribly disoriented at worst, and, at best, being considered a royal flake.

And so I remain on the fence, perhaps deluding myself that the view is clearer from "up here." What I know is that despite the best and worst efforts of the faithful, there will always be cynics and doubters – and I think we should listen to them, especially the funny ones. I also know that despite the noblest efforts of those who promote critical thinking, we will probably always inhabit a planet that is both demon-haunted and kissed by angels. Who am I to say whether these beings are "real," or simply the products of our worst fears and deepest hopes? (Of course, many Law of Attraction believers wouldn’t even make that distinction.) I think that for now, the best I can do is try to keep my mind and heart open, and, as always, my crap detector at the ready.

Well, The Rev’s turkey is beginning to smell, if you’ll pardon the word, heavenly, and I have some cleaning left to do in this zoo before the gang arrives. The garland in the living room is looking a bit more chewed, and one of the cats is projectile vomiting, so I’m thinking maybe it would be a good idea just to remove the Christmas frou-frou from that room altogether. So I'll sign off now, hoping this day is wonderful for you. And I promise to get back to being a smart-ass after Christmas.

Signs of the season

Despite my apparent crankiness in recent blog posts, and notwithstanding a bunch of other stuff that’s going on in my world but is beyond the scope of this blog, I really, really am trying to be holly-jolly this season. But if I hear one more ludicrously over-rendered version of Silent Night, heaved up by some blinged-out, excessively self-important young "diva" who isn't qualified to even whisper Aretha Franklin's name, I am going to commit an act of violence.Silent Night is a simple, lovely tune. It’s okay to occasionally perk up the beat a bit (a la Angie Aparo) so it won’t sound so much like a boring hymn droned out by a bunch of tight-ass church folks, but it does not need to be over-sung. I am not only deeply unimpressed but profoundly annoyed by all of those twittery, quivery, utterly unnecessary notes that the "divas" seem compelled to produce for the same reason a dog licks his naughty bits – simply because they can.


And while you’re at it, divas, stop over-singing The Star-Spangled Banner and Amazing Grace.

Okay, now I shall try to be a little more positive. It is, after all, a holy season. And in spite of my on-again off-again cynicism about the season, I do have my sentimental moments. For instance, I always feel a little tug at my fourth chakra when I visit a friend’s home and behold the Christmas tree, all decked out with bright shiny objects and surrounded by a huge stack of presents that will be torn open on Christmas morning and forgotten before the New Year. It’s not the presents I envy. I only wish, for a moment, that The Rev and I could have a Christmas tree too.

But we can’t. This is not due to cynicism or any sort of religious conflicts. Cynics we may be, but we enjoy fine Pagan traditions, of which the Christmas tree is one, just as much as any agnostic-animist-Jewish-wannabe* / Buddhist** couple.

We cannot have a Christmas tree because of the cats.

Our cats – three of ’em, at last count – are strictly-indoor table tigers, as I strongly believe all suburban and urban felines should be. They do not, however, have free run of the house. We keep them out of the kitchen and dining areas, the bedrooms, and the offices where the computers are. They are allowed to accompany us into the bathroom, but due to their search-and-destroy lifestyle, they generally aren’t allowed to stay in there by themselves. (We even have a sign on the inside of our bathroom door for the benefit of guests who don’t know the house rules.)
The living room and the adjoining hallway are cat territory. This means that anyone who happens to be lounging around in the living room watching TV is fair game to be cat furniture. So it’s a good thing that all of our friends like cats. Unfortunately, the living room is also the only feasible place for a Christmas tree. Equally unfortunately, cats have hands, and they know how to use them.

Nevertheless I have tried to make the space somewhat festive. Though there’s no tree, I hung a large fake wreath on the wall above the entertainment center, mostly but not completely out of cat reach.

Occasionally a furry little hand will reach up and swipe at a fake flower, or grab a fake holly leaf that I will later find regurgitated on The Rev’s armchair, but so far the wreath itself has remained in place. The real problem, if you could call it a problem, has been with the fake garland I placed above the living room window. This is the only window in the room, and it’s one of those high-up windows. The Rev built a "kitty shelf" for the dear little demons so they can spend their days reclining on the shelf, gazing out at the wide world. (Wicked Rev also recently placed some bird and squirrel feeders in and around the trees just outside the window, but so far it hasn’t caused a frenzy. At least it generally hasn’t come to the teeth-chattering point.)

Not surprisingly, the cats have decided that the Christmas garland, by virtue of being above their window, belongs to them. Every morning I come out to find the garland has been torn down, with some of its leaves and flowers scattered carelessly around the room. I sort of like that look, but I realize that if the garland is on the floor, the dogs (four, at last count) can and will eat it when we all gather in the living room at night to watch one of our sentimental holiday movies such as Die Hard, Bad(der) Santa or The Long Kiss Goodnight. So I dutifully replace the garland, only to find my work undone the next morning. This morning I came out not only to find that the garland had been torn down and fragments of it scattered asunder, but that los tigres had also strewn yesterday’s newspaper all over the living room, turned on the Rev’s reading light,***, pulled some DVDs off the shelf, and knocked over a chair or two.

Hmmm. Maybe I’d better reconsider this "indoor cat" arrangement.
In spite of their destructive tendencies, I probably wouldn’t trade the little dears for the most glorious Christmas tree in the world, or, for that matter, for decent furniture, which we will never have. Life is a trade-off, and our pointy-eared angels bring The Rev and me far more joy than material things ever could. Most of the time, anyway.

And speaking of angels…well, it is the season and all that, and I found a little piece in First, The Magazine For Women on The Go, a mostly brainless guilty-pleasure supermarket women’s rag that I buy for bathroom reading, as the magazine’s tag line suggests. (It’s not all intellectual literary stuff with me. For someone who can be such an ineffable snob at times, I actually have some pretty lowbrow tastes.)

Anyway, First, like many other magazines – particularly at this miracle-ridden time of year – has gotten on kind of an angel kick. The piece that caught my eye in the latest issue is titled, "3 signs angels are watching over you." According to Trish Chastain-Sage (what a name, huh?), a "specialist in spiritual healing through angels," any of the following three signs "could be an indication of divine protection and oversight":

1. FEATHERS: "Finding a feather in an unexpected place is a clear signal that an angel is nearby," maintains Chastain-Sage. Angels want to subtly alert us to their presence, she says, and these feather "hints" are one way they go about it.
2. SUDDEN POSITIVE FEELINGS: Experiencing a bright burst of optimism that seems to come out of nowhere, ad if your cares are being lifted away, means that in all likelihood you’ve just been embraced by a spiritual helper, Chastain-Sage asserts.
3. RUSH OF WARMTH: "A sudden warm sensation is an indication that a heavenly guide is helping to heal something inside you, be it an emotional or a physical wound," explains Chastain-Sage. These types of feelings are typically experienced during the night or early morning, when we are most open to spiritual intervention.

I couldn’t help noticing how Chastain-Sage likes to maintain, assert, and explain. It sounds to me as if some junior staff member was hitting the online thesaurus pretty hard. Apart from that, I also couldn’t help thinking of a few alternative explanations for these magical signs. I’m not trying to rain on anyone’s angel parade, but I think it is important to explore all possibilities.

Take that "rush of warmth." It could be angels, yes, but it could also be a sign from Goddess that the Estroven is no longer working, and it’s time to look into some bioidentical HRT. And those "sudden positive feelings?" Maybe that Vicodin-Soma cocktail you forgot you gulped a half hour ago to help you cope with the holidays has just kicked in. And as for those feathers in unexpected places, I'd say it is entirely possible that your own pointy-eared angel has just successfully hunted your favorite down pillow.

If I were you, I’d check the bird feeders too.
* Me
** The Rev
*** Since it was mainly ads that were scattered, I suspect they were hunting for last-minute Christmas bargains in the paper.

Xanax...er...Xmas Season is upon us

This being Thanksgiving, at least in the United States, I’m taking the obligatory what-I-have-to-be-thankful-for inventory. Tops on the gratitude list is having the Rev in my life, of course. (I’m also thankful that he and his son are both supremely talented in the kitchen, and they’re doing all of the cooking for today’s feast.)

I’m thankful as well for my George W. Bushisms calendar, with its daily quotations from W. In honor of Thanksgiving, today’s offering is from a speech W made in Miami in 2001:

…I’m so thankful, and so gracious – I’m gracious that my brother Jeb is concerned about the hemisphere as well.

I’m gracious that we have such a thankful president. I’m also gracious for the recent election results.

Not least of all, I am profoundly thankful for the gifts I get in my email every day, including the one I received just yesterday. Here, just in time for the holidays, is stunning proof that angels exist:

The angels are the round splotches of light in the picture. I'm pretty sure that the floppy-eared entity in the lower left-hand corner is also an angel. Anyhow, we can thank Certified Angel Therapy Practitioner™ Lisa Genevieve of League City, Texas for this astonishing proof. What’s more, you too can demonstrate angelic existence, and all you need is a digicam. "Angels are among us!" Lisa writes. "Try this yourself with a digital camera. Angels and light beings show up as orbs around us in photographs. This is my daughter and her best friend one night in the spring. There were an extraordinary number of light beings that showed up for this shot!"

Lisa, who says she has her greatest success receiving information from the spiritual realm via automatic writing, sells Soul Readings from the Angels for only $77.00 US. For an extra $33.00, you can get a message from a departed loved one.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a couple of holiday CD mixes to burn, some of the Rev’s cooking to sample, and some TV to watch. I’m really not in the mood for our local Thanksgiving parade, which, for some reason, can no longer be called the "Thanksgiving Parade." It is now officially named the "Holiday Parade" (well, after all, Thanksgiving is a U.S. holiday, and I suppose the parade organizers didn’t want to offend any non-citizens or foreign terrorists who might be living in the Bayou City). In lieu of the parade, I’ve been watching a delightful late-1990’s Brit rendition of Alice Through The Looking Glass, starring Kate Beckinsale. It has been criticized by some as being too "drugged-out," which in my book makes it much more faithful to Lewis Carroll’s original tale than all those other cutesy remakes. And so far, it’s making a lot more sense than most of the emails I receive. Every time I check my email I go a little further into the looking glass, or down the rabbit hole...

Happy Turkey Day to everyone who celebrates it. To those for whom Thanksgiving is too Americentric, Happy Late Autumn Holiday. Not to give short shrift to those in the Southern Hemisphere, for whom this would be a Late Spring Holiday (like Jeb Bush, I too am concerned about hemispheres). And to those who plan to celebrate the coming Winter (or Summer) Holiday, that season of Bright Shiny Objects (Bling Crosby, anyone?)... be sure to take your Xanax before heading out to the malls tomorrow. Or, better yet, take it instead of heading out to the malls. You’ll be much, much happier.