12.21.2005
Getting Hip To The Prez & Co.
In a recent televised address, President George W. Bush claimed that the United States was winning the war in Iraq, despite the insurgents pressing on with their attacks, despite the specter of civil war hanging over the whole bomb-blasted mess. Do I believe the President? Of course, I do. Look! Here comes Peter Cottontail, hoppin’ down the bunny trail, hippity, hoppity.
Meanwhile, Ken Lay, an old buddy of the President, is getting ready to go on trial. He was the chairman of the Enron Corporation, the energy company accused of ripping off consumers for billions of dollars. Recently Lay stated that he is innocent; his underlings were the ones who lied, conspired, and committed fraud. Do I believe him? Of course, I do. Look! Once again, here comes Peter Cottontail, hopping down the bunny trail, hippity, hoppity. Hop, hop, hop.
The next time a public figure - politician, businessman, whatever – tells you a story, expecting to you to accept it without question like a naïve child, say that you believe him. And make sure to add: “Please, tell me more, Mr. Cottontail.”
Hippity, hoppity. Hop, hop, hop.
Be a hophead.
After all, Truth’s on its way.
A Matter Of Words
Every winter I wait for summer, trying to hold on. The biggest hump to get over is the so-called holiday season. Peace On Earth, Good Will To Men. Unless some SOB is reaching for the last Xbox on sale; then break his arm!
Of course, there are those who whine about how Christ has been taken out of Christmas. But most of them still swarm around the shopping malls like hungry rats, trying to get the perfect gift that doesn’t exist.
Some reporter or columnist will write an article about avoiding holiday stress and depression. An expert is interviewed; he will say anyone who is vulnerable should take it easy, not get caught up in the rush and unrealistic expectations.
But the TeeVee will run those seasonal classics, all with the happy endings, reinforcing the programming that tries to keep everyone brainwashed, making sure that the trained rats will spend more this year, keeping sales healthy. After all, that’s the reason for the season: profit$.
Me, I opt out. I don’t bother with the phony greeting cards, overpriced decorations, “perfect” gifts. I don’t need a holiday to wish someone well or to send them a present.
Lately a controversy has erupted over the use of “Merry Christmas.” Some prefer the phrase “Happy Holidays,” acknowledging that not all Americans are Christian, that others have their own beliefs, special celebrations. But that has triggered a strong response by the Faithful. Now if you say “Happy Holidays,” you’re suspected of being a liberal-commie-pinko Christ-hater.
There’s a better way to sum up this time of the year. Forget “Merry Christmas,” “Happy Holidays,” and even “Season’s Greetings.” Call the whole mess what it really is.
Crap.
12.14.2005
Ugation: Holiday Scam or Artsy Subterfuge?
Art or just artsy? Real creativity or just a gag?
It’s called ugation, a neologism created from the term ugly creation. But don’t tell someone that if you’re giving such an item as a Christmas or birthday gift. And make sure to use the artsy pronunciation, yoo-gae-shen. After all, you don’t want the recipient of your ugated gift to find out that you’re a cheap bastard.
Cheap is a key word. So is haste. Ugation is a combination of inexpensive or free objects quickly thrown together without much second thought.
Walk through a craft store and pay attention to what’s on sale. There’s a block of green Styrofoam at a low price. Find some cheesy plastic flowers, jam them into that block, and then spray Silly String all over. If it looks like real art, you’ve failed. If it looks like pretentious arty crap – congratulations! It’s a successful ugation.
All you have to do to come up with a connoisseur’s spiel. With the above example, you could say it represents the plastic phoniness of commercialism, the Silly String representing the symbolic web that traps all consumers under the capitalistic system. Then make sure to put a $100 price tag on it. It’s “Art,” ain’t it?
