Friday 23 December 2011

Why watch Christmas classics year after year?

Okay. It's that time of year again, time to stare at a televised fire place filled with blazing logs and pretend to experience a Christmas past, to sit in big cushy chairs, grab a turkey leg, put our feet up, and start channel surfing.

What would we do without television over the holidays? Think of all the sentimental movies we watch. Not to mention animated features: A Charlie Brown Christmas, anyone?

Those wanting something more cerebral relish year-end reviews with foreign reporters and fun quizzes for political junkies, like the CBC's 'At Issue' year end quiz.

But we still put on the popcorn and settle in for a family fest viewing the Christmas classics. What amazes me is how folks watch the same Christmas movies year after year. It's even possible that some watch the same movie more than once during the holidays, depending how often it appears on the networks. Over a lifetime we could view classics like "It's a Wonderful Life" or "A Christmas Story" or "A Christmas Carol" 50 times or more. Yet we are never bored. Why?

I think these films are similar to stories read to us as children. Most of us loved hearing the same story night after night, a monotony that drove parents to distraction. As kids, the familiar was and is comforting, e.g.,a classic like Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter.

Seems there is some of that at play with re-watching Christmas movies. We all want comforting, a little reminder of Christmases past.

Perhaps Christmas classics fulfill the same need that stories of childhood did - a cocoon of safety where nothing bad happens and the love of parents penetrates our very marrow? I reckon it's "A Wonderful Life" after all, if only via the movies.

Friday 16 December 2011

Santa, a salesman of contradictions

Is there a Santa Claus? Of course there is and Santa v 1.0 derives from earlier traditions, one of the most noted being St. Nicholas.

Santa is the engine that drives the Christmas market. If we didn't have this jolly old dude in a red suit to help us get into the Christmas buying spirit, we would quickly invent another pseudo-historical character, wrap him in festive mystery, and add a touch of folklore and mythology for authenticity.


Mythology as authentic seems contradictory, but contradictions fit the entire Santa schtick.

We needn't stray from the successful formula. We would still create and market the new, improved Santa (v. 2.0) as a wise old toy maker living up north with a coterie of adorable elfin buddies and a posse of remarkable flying reindeer.

Note the emphasis on teamwork that carefully weaves into the Santa narrative. No accident, this. Big business, which reveres self-made entrepreneurs and rugged individuals above all else, promotes Santa as a total team player managing a workshop of wee elves. Another contradiction?

Like the original, our re-worked Santa fable would be an irresistible force for the child in all of us. He'd be role model for how to raise offspring (or not!) Ah, the contradictions.....

As in Santa Claus is Coming to Town, he'd continue to terrorize tiny tots with his lists and spying and threats to be good or else. Who can resist such a sweetie?

He's making a list
And checking it twice;
Gonna find out who's naughty and nice.
Santa Claus is coming to town.
He sees you when you're sleeping.
He knows when you're awake.
He knows if you've been bad or good,
So be good for goodness sake! 

Santa v. 2.0 could carry intimidation further with
  • 'Naughty lists' on Facebook 
  • Un-friending of parents who buy fewer gifts or buy ones not 'made in America' (or EU, etc.) or buy only inexpensive ones 
  • Tweets about who's been seen being naughty 
  • Flickr and Picasa photos taken on cell phones of kids caught in the act
Oh, yes, we clearly need Santa Claus to keep children in line and to fuel more and more consumption. Global warming be damned! With world economies on the brink, Santa is more crucial than ever.

Eartha Kitt got it right with her risque ditty, Santa, Baby. Keep the luxury goods flowing! And the iffy ones whose ads magically tend to appear more often or only at Christmas such as
Like all goods sold at Christmas, Santa must adapt to changing needs. But no matter what the new Santa, whether mensch or schmuck, please keep the contradictions.

Fantasy always outsells reality. Ho! Ho! Ho!

Tuesday 13 December 2011

Who's been knotty & nice?

It is the time of year where men usually get spiffed up and attend Christmas functions and seek spousal assistance in picking out a shirt and tie. Some fellows also need help in tying the tie.

Don't blame them. Men's fashions are tricky. To wear certain ties one needs to match them to a particular collar: a collar with a wide spread would not suit those wearing small tie knots.

Men with moderate to thin necks should wear wide collars with
Men with large to wide necks should use medium spaced collars with
Any colour on the tie can match any colour in your suit or sports coat or shirt.

James Bond thought that the Windsor knot was the mark of a cad.

For fun, over the years James Bond wore different ties. See if you can tell the types of knots worn by the following Bond actors (photos from The Suits of James Bond):
It's pretty tough, isn't it?

Of course, Bond occasionally wore a bow tie:

Sean


There's even an encyclopedia of tie knots by physicist Thomas Fink, a man with eclectic interests.

Here's how to tie the common ones
With the right tie and right knot, can we all look like Agent 007, at least at Christmas? And should we be knotty or nice? <8-)

Monday 12 December 2011

Bathroom maestros


Why is it men think they are Caruso as soon as they hit the showers? Sometimes it gets out of hand.

Picture a jovial type who always sings off key. Naturally he inflicts his vocal maladroitness on anymore within hearing distance. Most often his wife.

What makes it worse is that these bathroom maestros tend to vocalize at the top of their lungs, sounding like screams from Psycho slashing through the thunderous rush of tap water. Let's leave our hero in the shower for a moment (oh, please--lets!) and step into his living room.

Note his loving but long suffering wife. When you ask her about his musical skills, she replies bluntly:
I once liked having him sing. Initially I thought it was sweet. Then he started singing every morning and every night, but only when he took a shower. He won't sing at parties like a normal person. He has to be in the tub. He likes the echo effect or something.  
Only once did he sing outside the house and that was because he was caught in a rainstorm. He got soaked to the skin and I guess that triggered an automatic response.
I don't know what is worse: his obsession with cleanliness or high notes! His behavior is driving me insane! To say nothing of running up the water bills as he prolongs his solitary concerts.
As I think about this I wonder if men, more than women, prefer to sing in showers. If they do, is it because most men want to be vocal artists and wish they could handle arias like Pavarotti or lounge songs like Frank Sinatra or croon as smoothly as Michael Buble?

There are many female singers out there to emulate.  Clearly women must sing at home, but where do budding sopranos sing?  Surely women love to warble country and western tunes or raunchy rock songs or operatic arias?

Do these ladies prefer the shower to work on their styles or do they prefer to use the bath instead. Everyone knows the bath is far more luxurious but does it lend itself to warbling?

Fact is, showers appeal to the showboat in men, who are drawn to them like a ham to a microphone.  Women, like every thing else in life, are far more practical. 

Wednesday 7 December 2011

Blue Monday?

Given its association with pay day, seasonal parties, and the lead-in to weekends, most folks think Friday is the happiest day of the week, hence in the western world we say, TGIF. We even promote and enjoy Casual Friday.


But if you live in the Middle East, it could be TAIW or TAIT


But not every day is peachy, especially in the era of 24/7 work weeks. 


What is your choice for worst day of the week? Might it be Hangover Monday?  Or Gala Thursday, a day when nothing goes right? According to medievalists, Gala is derived from gallows. You get the idea. 


For us in the west, get by Thursday and the rest of the week is a piece of cake. As for me, I agree with Fats Domino:

Just at Christmas? Pity!

Why do people sing carols only at Christmas? They are such lovely songs and could benefit from a year round airing. Instead we save them for a few days before Christmas and wonder why we can't remember half the lyrics. 


Some try to fake the words but singing "O bury me not on the lone prairie" instead of "O Holy Night" is a bit jarring to say the least.


Granted many Christmas songs make more sense at Christmas, e.g, We Wish You a Merry Christmas, but others go beyond Christmas.



What ever happened to Randolph Scott?


As a child, I loved cowboy films. I can't remember how many times I lined up for Saturday matinees with other kids my age, eager to see the latest sagebrush hero.

The hero was easy to spot. Generally he wore a white hat, rode a fabulous horse and was befriended by sidekicks like Smiley Burnette or Gabby Hayes. Somehow this knight of the open range managed to warble a few numbers between breaks in the action. The singing cowboys had the most fans and were probably the most publicized. Roy Rogers and Gene Autry were giants of this genre.

Superstar John Wayne, who shaped the definition of the American hero in film, honed his early career in low budget westerns, often playing Singing Sandy.

Randolph Scott did not sing in his cowboy roles. His westerns were shot in blazing colour and the scenery was eye popping. His chiseled good looks and quiet manner made him ideally suited to play ruggedly heroic types who rode hell bent for leather to round up the bad guys.

Films about the Old West were and are good entertainment. I hope we see their like again one day.




Hit the vein, please!

As part of a check-up, I have to get a blood test. I'm not exactly sanguine about the idea. I dislike needles, especially the long ones that resemble harpoons.

It is always the same procedure. I sit in a chair, pretending to be fine when in fact I'm gripped by visions of having an artery punctured. Given my imagination, I see resulting TV headline: Phlebotomist drowns in patient's blood.

Of course, it's only a question of mind over matter. I'll just show up, get a snappy poke in the arm and wonder what on earth I was worried about.

Chip the snowflake

I had reason to converse with a snowflake last night. His name was Chip. Seems Chip was troubled by the climate's warming trends. He went on at length about the end of winter as we know it. Trying to be oblivious, I basked in the glow of a warm December evening.

Chip's ideas depressed the hell out of me and I voiced my objections. He just snickered as he bathed in the glass of wine I was drinking. He could care less. After all he was a showboat, a dazzling speaker who mesmerized everyone. I fell completely under his spell and ignored the frostbite slowly eating my feet and hands. I ignored, too, the blizzard whipping across our ice-encrusted balcony.

They found me this morning, still holding the glass of wine, covered in three inches of blue ice and dressed in pyjamas and sled-like sandals.  Chip and his cohort of assorted flakes swirled above chanting,
"Don't you cry,
We'll be back again some day."
 Don't know about Chip, but I expect to thaw out in time for the holidays.

What's an ice bat, eh?

Lovely frosty day at the beginning of the year's final month. Ever heard of ice bats? Although I have no proof, I suspect Canada has the largest number of ice bats in the world.
Can you see the ice bat?

Okay, what on earth is an ice bat, you ask? Well, according to experts, they are a harmless life form that sleeps all year and only stirs during wintry months (December – February, in northern climes).

Being rather timid, ice bats disguise themselves as icicles and hang upside down from roofs or eaves. If you are not paying close attention you will think they are icicles.

To further blend into the society around them, ice bats show a preference for beer, junk food, ice hockey, and the colour red. Whenever possible, they say "eh" in both official languages.

Ice bats have one major weakness: they love too easily, and not infrequently. It's quite common for ice bats to gaze moonstruck at trees for weeks. Then in the glare of the dawn sun, they sneak away.

Can-do Roo

What is the ideal house pet for Christmas? Cat, dog, budgie or goldfish?

These excellent pets are not sufficient in today's demanding world where multitasking skills are paramount. If you have a pet, it must be able to perform some basic task as well as be adept in other areas.
Cats act regal, expect to be treated royally and thus would make excellent wine stewards (sommeliers to those a cut above). 
Dogs traditionally guard the premises but in today's market, they would also need to be well versed in all aspects of criminology. 
Budgies, being wee parrots, require less space and food. But besides chirping, the modern budgerigar would need the vocabulary of the OED.
Goldfish are cute but would require more across the board skills to be useful. Maybe they could don a towel and wash the empty wineglasses to earn their keep?
These examples only touch the surface. The real multitasking house pet does everything. My pick would be a kangaroo. A kangaroo is a laid back, relaxed type with a hop-to-it , can-do nature. Kangaroos are natural bodyguards who can double as travel companions. With a Roo sitting with you on a plane, the crush of blowhards who want to talk your ear off drops to zero. And the pouch serves as a free, extra carry on bag.

Still pretty at 47

I was sitting in a cafe the other day and the radio was playing. It was the usual background music that you tune out while eating. I stared bleary eyed at my empty soup bowl when the old, foot stomping rock and roll rhythms of Pretty Woman snapped me out of my stupor.

Why was this recording so special, so gripping and seemingly as fresh as it was the day it was released in August, 1964? At 47 years of age Pretty Woman has remained more energetic than anything currently on the market. I sat there in the cafe, my mind recalling the day I first heard it as a rebellious teen.

Why does this song constantly capture and hold an audience year after year across the decades? Was it Orbison's fabulous vocals or the magical beat? Or a bit of both. I'm not surprised Rolling Stone magazine ranked it #222 on their list of the "500 Greatest Songs of All Time."

Upstairs, downstairs

Why does the idea of having servants appeal to us? Easy. We see ourselves as superior beings who deserve all the pampering we can get. 


Servants serve to pamper us and make us feel special. We need to be told and shown that we are beautiful people. We overlook the fact that the elite were indolent snobs in days of yore. Perhaps many still are?


I mean how lazy do you have to be not to answer your door, put on your glad rags, answer your telephone, cook your food, and clean your place? What's next? Not wanting to wipe your tush? 


Do you think a butler ever traveled in a covered wagon?


[And servants have more fun, at least at 165 Eaton Place]

Monday 5 December 2011

Mugs with wrinkles

Two of us went out, ate junk food,
drank hot liquids, flapped our gums, then left.
Cuddly but not stuffed!
During the quiet spells we eyed the joint.
It was a spacious, clean, friendly place
offering coffee and munchies.

The cafe was a hangout for university tadpoles
fascinated by high tech gadgets. It is not
ideal for a food-loving senior's gang
unless they crave jungle java or
atomic portions of sugar buns.

The manager was polite and well spoken,
though a little unsure how to treat old folks.
The teen servers viewed us as cuddly stuffed toys.
Everyone stared at our walkers and thought
they were a far out, super-radical go-kart.

© 2011 Peter Letendre