Merry Christmas from Dick and Rose Marie and Santa – and Kent!
Lots of stuff today; links at the end of the post. Except for this one – here’s the Strib editorial I wrote. Fresh from today’s paper.
Seasoned Yule enthusiasts know the pleasures of last-minute shopping. If you’ve nailed down the basics, cooked the meal, the final jaunt is a joy. No pressure. Just getting a few things. Stocking stuffers. And so it came to pass that I was standing in a neighborhood gift store at 7:10 – a few minutes after doing a radio interview, pleased with myself that I’d set out in the teeth of The Christmas Storm, sad that Gnat was down with a bug and was running a temp, determined to find something for the stocking stuffed by the ho-ho archetype in whom she no longer believed, literally, when a well-dressed matron who’d had a few belts at the adjacent cafe attempted to exit by the store’s fire exit. You could understand her confusion – there was an EXIT sign above, but there was also an enormous shelf blocking half the door, and a bit terra-cotta moon hanging in front of the glass, both of which under normal circumstances would conspire to suggest you should exit through the door to used to enter.
But no. She pushed and SHOVED and PUSHED and managed to open the door AND drop the terra-cotta moon on her foot. There’s somewhat-senile, and there’s half in the bag, and I’m going with the latter.
I bought what I needed and moved on the Likkastow, where they had a sale on Evan Williams Bourbon, Special Batch, Bottled Solely for (fill in the name on the label here). This Likkastow (sorry, it’s an obscure reference from a Prince movie, of all things; he’s joking about the Rekkastow and the Likkastow, and I like the way the patios transformed the names into something that looks Finnish. Ya, we sled to likkastow for ein Groggen and der lingonschnapps, ya?) gives samples if you ask; they have an extraordinary selection of brown liquids available for tasting. The Evan Williams was horrible, and I put the bottle back. It wasn’t until I was out of the store and in my vehicle that I remembered I’d had a zinc tablet before I left the house.
They tend to influence things you consume for about a day afterwards.
Ah well. Went to the DVD store to see if there was anything spankin’ new Netflix can’t give me because it’s a LONG WAIT, and picked up Unglureus Bisturbs, or however it’s spelled. Off to Walgreen’s for a box of chocolates. Why? Because my dad always brought home a box of Russell Stover on Christmas Eve, and the torch has been passed to a new generation. Also needed more things for the stocking.
There was a giant Yukon truck in the middle of the lot, blocking all who desired to pass. As I walked up to the store, I saw a policeman approaching, hand on flashlight; he was looking at a car into which someone seemed to be attempting to shove an industrial refrigerator. Someone else was attaching jumper cables. Nothing I saw added up.
Went inside, got things, wandered around, wondering if I needed MORE things. A clerk asked if she could help me find what I wanted, and I said I didn’t know what I wanted, so, no, but stay tuned. She paused, peered, and asked if I was me, and I said that I was, and we had a long merry conversation about things. Turns out she knew what had happened in the parking lot: a couple had entered the store to buy things. Lots of things. The man was drinking in the store, and somewhat loud. He left. The woman was upset, and asked the clerk if she could take a cart to transport her purchases to the shady motel six blocks south. The clerk said errrr, no, but she’d help her. She’d drive over over. When I’d crossed the lot the clerk was attempting to get the purchases into her car for transport.
The policeman?
Well, the car was stolen.
Which car?
When the boyfriend left the store in irritation. he’d gotten into their car, peeled out, hit another vehicle – the big Yukon I’d seen – and then he’d just up and run away, leaving her with the stolen car. While I was examining the portion options of Peppermint Bark the policeman was escorting her to his vehicle, because apparently he’d had many dealings with her before.
The nice clerk who’d offered to drive the woman home to the inn on Christmas Eve Eve was named: Magdalen.
That’s all just an hour in the city.
Earlier in the evening I’d watched Rudolph with Gnat. She was curled on the floor by the tree, watching the living room TV, her stomach aching. She enjoyed the Seasonal Viewing, but we picked it apart together. Santa, as many have noted, is a jerk. The elves show up to sing a song that essentially celebrates their unquestioned servitude, and he’s checking his watch the whole time. The Reindeer Dad is overbearing; Clarisse is quite forward, and good for her, but one does question the ease with which she forges an alliance with Mother to find the errant Rudolph. Let me find him so I can take him away from you, withered sexless deer-crone! They’re gone for months, yet Rudolph shows up at the EXACT MOMENT they’re about to be eaten? Uh huh. Yukon falls over a cliff, and even though the bottom can be clearly ascertained by the naked eye, everyone assumes he’s dead? I mean, if Bumbles bounce, surely some Bumble-bouncing would have happened right away and reassured everyone. Oh! Evolution has produced a spongy subcutaneous layer that prevented damage to the Bumble’s internal organs. Let’s throw him a rope and rescue him. But no: He’s GONE! HE’S GONE! And that’s the end of it.
No one seems to mourn the dogs who went over the edge with Yukon, do they.
Of all the characters, Gnat liked Yukon the best. She thought Moonracer the Winged Lion was cool, but seriously, what the hell: is this a hereditary monarchy? How did a lion with wings end up ruling a small island of damaged playthings, instead of swooping around Manhattan shouting HEED ME MORTALS. Charley-in-the-box tells us “he’s holding court right now,” but “holding court” consists of Moonracer perched on a throne, or maybe a commode, in an empty hall. Did he spend all day sitting there, thinking, well, here I am, holding court, yes indeed. Or – more likely – was this an elaborate scheme to gather unusual toys and hold them under their collector-value soared? We’re supposed to believe that Santa didn’t know about the Island of Misfit Toys. Right. Like a guy who runs a toy-construction industry based on aerial distribution would be COMPLETELY UNAWARE of a lion who flew around picking up toys. It all stinks, I tell you. The fix was in.
Xmas links! Here’s Jerry on the Job. Damned odd, but that’s our flip-take Jer. Here’s an Institute Archive booklet about gift wrapping. Later today – finally, the Black and White World. Tomorrow, Casper Milquetoast. No end to the joy, friends.
Pass it along, if you wish
31 Responses to Merry Christmas, pt. 1
Host with the Most
One quick observation for all of you who have a DVD of Rudolph (or still have it saved on your DVR). My favorite part of the whole show: During the credits, when one of the elves is giving each misfit toy an umbrella to safely float down from the flying sled to their destination house, he looks at the Misfit Bird toy (who can’t fly, but swims), he determines that since he is a bird, he has no need for the umbrella and tosses him overboard! Cracks me up every year!
Evan Williams? You got off easy. Back in ’85 me and a Navy buddy bought a bottle – thinking anything that had a label that looked that close to Jack Daniels must be good stuff. Wrong answer. We choked it down anyway and were both sick for a week.
I wonder if he made it?@Joe
Down here in At-lannah, we go to the Likkastow-ah…
I see that “Gnat” has returned to the Bleat! : )
Not only was Santa a jerk, but so was the Reindeer Coach!
One year, I found a Barbie in the bargain bin. She was supposed to be a “talking” Barbie but she didn’t work. I told my daughter she was a Misfit Toy and she was chosen to give her a home.
She believed me! : )
As the convenient mart advertisement put it, “Have a fresh brewed Christmas and a made to order New Year”. Not a bad idea actually.
“Ho ho ho! Smokings good for you kids! Would Dick Van Dyke lie to you?”
Hey everyone check out the christmas cartoon I made for my family back in 2006. Go to http://spaceystacey1416.multiply.com/video/item/2
Its called “A Cays Daze Christmas” and its based on “A Charlie Brown Christmas” except it stars me, my siblings and friends.
i’ve always wondered what the red haired girl doll did to be banished to the Island? She seems to have all her appendages. Maybe she has some sort of mental illness? She’s incontinent?
she’s a redhead, and stereotype unrelated to Presidential actions deleted.
if she was sickly green-faced, a perfect Christmas present.
about time to breakfast up and start shovelling my way to the car. Marry Christmas, you owe it to her!
Apparently she was SAD:
http://www.sodahead.com/entertainment/whats-wrong-with-the-doll-on-rudolphs-island-of-misfit-toys/blog-214119/
My wife is a doll collector, and she has plenty of dolls expressing a variety of emotions, so I don’t see why this makes the red haired doll a misfit- I guess being normal makes you a misfit? Merry Christmas, misfits!!
When I worked in a toy store, we called the big box of returned/damaged merchandise the island of misfit toys.
Why didn’t Charlie lie about his name, do kids ask for ID?
Sorry to hear about the sudden onset Christmas Vacation Syndrome that has overtaken Natalie. My 8 and 5 year old daughters were doing a sleepover at Grama’s last night: 5 year old has developed a cough and cold, 8 year old woke this morn to a fever and copious gaking. Thanks for raising and providing for me, my dear 75 year old mother, now my Christmas gift to you: take my fevered and contagion laden children for an evening of needy, needy bliss.
Illness during Christmas Vacation? An OUTRAGE! Illness on Christmas Eve? OUTRAGEOUS Outrage!
Spent the night wrapping the kids’ gifts. And by saying ‘spent the night’ I do, in fact, mean spent the night. 6:00PM – 11:45PM. My wife could easily out-wrap Patricia Rhyll. In fact I would consider Patricia Rhyll to be a Triple A league wrapper at best. Sure she might get called up to the bigs, but only if the Club suffers a post season injury. My Child Bride can whip out about 3 professionally wrapped packages, joyfully festooned with ribbons, lace and decorative swag in the same amount of time it takes me to to wrap one sweater box – badly.
To all the residents at Jasperwood – get well and stay well. Enjoy your Christmas.
To all the the patrons of the Bleat-i-verse, Merry Christmas!
Dick van Dyke for Kents is nowhere near as jarring as Hop-a-Long Cassidy shilling Chesterfields on the Bing Crosby Christmas show.
And IIRC, the doll was on the Island of Misfit Toys because she cried ice cubes.
i can remember putting out cookies for Santa one year when my smoking (adverb, not adjective)grandmother came to town. Everyone had a laff at the 6 yearolds expense by telling me to put some carrots out for the reindeer and a carton of coffin nails for Santa. “Yeah, Santa likes these”. Gma happened to have a carton handy which I am now sure went right back into her suitcase as soon as I was in bed. Chesterfields I think.
I remember a friend’s dad telling me that a carton of cigarettes was a fairly common Christmas gift in 50s.
@Joe
“NO, WAIT, I NEED THAT I CANT AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH” thud
@HaroldJ
I think cigs are still a popular gift in Japan.
@xrayguy
I’m sure Santa appreciated the Cartoons of heaters, but I think he is really a Lucky Strike man…
@juanito – John Davey
Crap – c*a*r*t*o*n*s
Firefox v3.5.6 spell checks c*a*r*t*o*n*s as ‘cartoons’. What the???
Evan Williams used to be better, but just like JD cheaped-out on their recipe, changing from 90 proof (black label) to 80. Never been all that great but at least it was reasonable highball fodder. Now, eh.
For well purposes I now buy Ezra Brooks which is still 90 proof and won’t blind you.
I save the boutique Bourbon for drinking neat. Anybody who boasts about their booze’s quality, then drowns it in 25 cents of sugar-water, is a fool.
Happy Yule, Bleatage boozehounds!
Ah yes, I remember the carton of cigarettes (in its festive holiday wrapping) as an excellent and always-appreciated ‘last minute’ gift. The perfect stocking stuffer for the whole family – SO satisfying.
Hey – Merry Christmas to all! No chance of snow here in SoCal – not a cloud in sight, boo.
And thanks for all the nice gifts you give to us, Mr. L !
Is it King MoonRACER or King MoonRAISER? They only say his name once, and it could go either way.
The Cowboy Who Rides An Ostrich was my introduction to surrealism.
I had always heard that the little girl doll was manic-depressive — went from laughing to crying in a heartbeat.
@Gene Dillenburg
It is in fact MoonRACER. You can verify by turning on Closed Captioning on either the broadcast, or the DVD
It’s always interesting when characters from TV shows do commercials for products as their characters (and on the set of their show). You hardly ever see that anymore. All the Dick Van Dyke ads (Kent, Joy dishwashing liquid, others) are on the DVDs.
There are some great Flintstones commercial for Winston cigarettes (not sure if James has ever had these on here or not):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NAExoSozc2c&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mbk2NT5e4Yc&feature=related
Dang it, I didn’t get to see Rudolph this year and don’t have it on DVD or DVR. Seems like it’s always shown on CBS around the first of the month and by the time I remembered it was too late. I’m sitting here enduring the Great Christmas Blizzard of Ought-Nine. Thiry-five mph sustained winds with gusts to 50. Was going to go into the office for a few hours this morning but decided against it. Good thing, as the highway is now closed and I’d have been stranded 20 miles from home if not already frozen by the side of the road. Made some BBQ pecans from the Jack Daniels BBQ recipe book a few hours ago. I had the presence of mind to stack some firewood by the back porch door yesterday. What I thought would be a three day supply is already half gone. In a couple of hours, it will be time to crack open the first homemade holiday beer. This year’s is a pilsner. I give away what I can as presents and drink the rest. So it will be cold beer, spicy pecans and a roaring fire for me this evening. Merry Christmas, you glorious bastards!
Regarding the Star Trib column: I didn’t put up the small artificial tree with the mini lights this year, so no Star Trek Shuttle Craft ornament. Girls love pushing the button to hear Nimoy intone: “Shuttle craft to Enterprise. Spock here. Happy holidays”.
Phooey! Santa only smoked CHESTERFIELDS!
I have that one as well.!Surely there’s a .wav or mp3 of that message somewhere in the great internet.
Must be, Luckies sponsored the Jack Benny radio show for years. LS/MFT LS/MFT. Lucky Strike / Means Fine Tobacco!
I guess it’s normal to go through some sort of real-tree withdrawal when switching to the imitation-type holiday tree. It’s been four years for me, and I still miss the mess and the myriad inconveniences of a genuine, fresh-cut tree, not to mention the short-lived tree aroma (the canned stuff just ain’t the same). For me, it’s mostly a matter of economics; around here, the real ones cost too much, even at the cut-your-own places. I have two pseudotrees, one being a rather small and relatively elderly one, and it sheds artificial needles at an alarming rate– almost worse than the real trees used to.
I have distinct memories of two pre-cut semi-live trees from my youth. One was rather stiffly frozen when we bought it on the tree lot, and when it thawed out at home, it turned out to be rather sparse at the bottom. My dad went and bought a second, smaller tree so he could cut branches from it and splice them onto the first tree. The hardware store actually sold little brackets made for that purpose; they were pounded into the tree trunk, and had a sleeve to hold the branch. Another year, we picked out a tree at a local service organization’s annual tree sale. Brought it home and Dad put it in the standard, and within an hour, it shed virtually every needle it had (we later learned that the trees had been cut in early November and had been shipped all the way across the country before Thanksgiving– not exactly fresh-cut as advertised). I think that was the year we started going to the cut-your-own tree farms, figuring that the freshly-cut tree would retain most of its needles at least until New Year’s Day– and they usually did.
A very merry Christmas to the Lileks family, and to all my fellow Bleat fans.
“one does question the ease with which she forges an alliance with Mother to find the errant Rudolph. Let me find him so I can take him away from you, withered sexless deer-crone! They’re gone for months, yet Rudolph shows up at the EXACT MOMENT they’re about to be eaten?”
For some reason this scene now always reminds me of Charlton Heston finding his mom and sister in the leper cave in Ben-Hur.
Because my dad always brought home a box of Russell Stover on Christmas Eve, and the torch has been passed to a new generation.
That torch remains with my in-laws, God bless ‘em. My wife’s been getting a box o’ chocolates from her parents every year for as long as she can remember.