Package That in Your Madison Avenue Briefcase

Tags

advertising, crap I learned, Humor, life in the foothills, stupid products

I have a bone stuck in my craw. Trouble is, where the craw is eludes me. And the bone ain’t with you, but you are damn sure gonna listen. Do read on!

For the umpteenth time, I’ve been advised by the earth movers that pass as the intelligentsia of Madison Avenue, that I am dumb as dirt and too stupid to bother existing.

Let me ‘splain Lucy.

I recognize that I am from the cave-keeping days, when *gasp* one actually purchased an onion and cut it into dice (not with the numbers dummy), and cooked it. I didn’t get it out of the freezer section and measure out 1/2 cup into the pan. I realize that. But really. Just how lazy do you think I am?

You used to go to the grocery story and pick out some potatoes and proceed to buy them. Now they come in 5, 10 and 20 lb bags. If the recipe calls for 2 lbs of potatoes, I have no idea on the face of Pluto what that is. I have to run a few potatoes into the bathroom and throw them on the scales? I mean surely you jest!

I used to have the common sense of a cow so it was assumed that I could manage to figure out how many carrots I needed when I shopped. Then some bright farmer decided to bundle them into a new thing called a “bunch”. Maybe you know how many carrots are in a bunch, but my scale is busy weighing potatoes and I don’t have time to count them. Is is a dozen? Or a pound? DO YOU KNOW? — I thought not.

Speaking of dozen, who the hell decided that I wanted eggs by the twelve, or by the eighteen? Nobody asked me. I checked my diaries since the age of sixteen, and there are no references to being asked about this.

Whose the numbers guy who decided all this stuff? It’s harder and harder to be allowed to purchase four turnips you know. They put them in fives and cover them with plastic wrap. Like I can’t get through that crap? They put my grapes in a ziplock bag, and I just this morning, in full view of every other shopper and God herself, opened it and extracted a whole bunch and laid them gently on the display, zipping up my lighter bag and marching off. No alarms, and no police followed me home.

Apparently it’s not okay to put mayo on my hamburger bun (when I choose to have lettuce on my burger) and then draw a smiley face with mustard. No I must BUY some pre-mixed concoction called Djo-nnaise, where somebody way smarter than I has figured out what the perfect ratio of mayo to mustard is. How the hell I have ever mixed the dressing of you-guessed it, mayo-mustard for my to-die-for potato salad is beyond me and the Muses.

I can’t be trusted around cheese either. I’m offered all manner of grated cheese in every flavor, and sometimes mixed together in “premium” offerings. It would be horrifying and would no doubt ruin the dish should I get three shreds more of cheddar than Monterey Jack in my own eyeballing method of shredding.

Oh I know, there is someone even older than I who is crying about how they used to make their own catsup and dill pickles and so on, and so forth, but I’m not trying to be difficult here. Those are reasonable to find ready done at the store. “Mexican blend” is, well just an East Coast innovation to help Brooklynites THINK they are eating some authentic “Mexican” when of course any fool knows that there is actually Mexican cheese that is actually authentic.

Well, I saw a new one the other day, and you may have seen it too. Now Land-o-Lakes wants me to buy their butter in honking chunks with seasonings already in it, so you don’t have to actually buy any herbs or spices, but you can just melt them into your pan and throw your piece of steroid rich chicken breast on top where it will meld into the flesh, seared there until the planet is incinerated in its last gasp before being swallowed by Mother Sun in an incestuous firestorm of eating one’s own.

See, it really is not so much that they think that I’m incapable of deciding on which herbs and spices I want on my skinny chicken flesh. It’s not that, though I can appreciate their snooty, nose in the stratosphere unbelievably gaudy display of wretched excess. No it’s not that. It’s the fact that they think that I am so unthinkingly stupid that I will actually pay them to tell me that I am this stupid that I need their in-your-face slap at my self-esteem.

For this is the bottom line here folks. For all this “time-saving” help they want me to pay a premium price! Here stupid, buy this and pay through the nose too! I mean that is so many insults heaped upon one person, that they should weigh more than enough to sink through the planet and plop out the other side faster than any of those sub-atomic particles that allegedly sling through my body every second without so much as a howdy do or excuse me!

I mean I can take the MENSA application test if I want to be insulted. I can nod dumbly as a nuclear physicist patiently explains the wherefores of string theory if I want to feel OUT OF MY MIND STUPID. I can make a list of stuff like this a mile long that would make me feel light in the neuron-possessing academy.

I don’t need no idiot at Land-o-it’s-butter-for-christsakes-Lakes telling me they know what herb to put on my freakin’ chicken!

So stuff it in your advertisement portfolio and budget and sit on it and twirl!

I feel better now.

 

 

 

Time to Make My Mark!

Tags

advertising, Election 2012, Entertainment, life in the meadow, lifestyle, Madison Avenue, Mitt Romney, Occupy Wall Street, Politics, Women's issues

I hate to tell you this, but I’m approaching 62.

Frightening, I know.

One wants, or at least I think one wants to leave some sort of legacy in the world. It may be as mothers, or wives, or corporate raiders, but we want something.

I came to the conclusion that for some people, the only avenue for that is eccentricity.

Not the type that comes from a Madonna or Lady GaGa. That is an eccentricity molded to build a career upon. Nothing wrong with it, but different.

There is the type that is simply inborn–the six-year-old who is determined to wear the most outlandish of wardrobes as a statement of independence from the herd. This is life-long and extends to an outlook that is askew in every respect upon the world at large.

No, I’m talking about the “I’m gettin’ old and I want to be noticed” kinda eccentricity. It is the eccentricity that results in a yard full of “lawn ornaments” of every size and shape. It causes one to paint one’s house with polkadots, or drive a scooter at age 80. It causes people to wonder, “has she tipped” or is she just being eccentric? And the trick is, you never let them get the answer. You smile, you wink, you whistle, and you move on.

Trouble is, I now live in a place where eccentricity is pretty much taken as the norm. There are plenty of examples around Troy. When too many are eccentric, well, they are NORMAL. And that defeats the entire purpose.

Problem too, is I don’t have any idea of what to do to be eccentric. I could collect salt and pepper shakers, but heck, nobody would know. I could engage in expert bird and animal mimicry, but who would hear? I could wear nothing but things I knit, but, whoa, I think that has already been done by Carla at the Dam Bar up town. I’m stymied, you see.

How to make my mark in New Mexico? How to stand out from the crowd and be recognized as a true “free spirit”. See, that is what I yearn for. To be the person everyone wishes they had the guts to be if they had the time.

If you have any suggestions, and you guys seldom do, I’d appreciate it. I’m collecting bird feathers. I have a lot of them. Well, not a lot, lot, but a lot if you don’t have ANY. I have a lot then. Can I do something with them that would be eccentric? Quick. Set me on my path before senility sets in and I’m eccentric without realizing it. That would be unfortunate, and defeat the purpose. Do you see? Or am I being eccentric?

§

I think the GOP race has now reached it nadir. It is a huge bore now.  They slog on, and the same rhetoric, the same crap will be resurrected in the state of South Carolina. *Yawn*. For a political blogger, like moi, this is not good news. Or am I being eccentric?

§

I suppose I could write short stories and write them intentionally badly. Would I know I was writing them so? Or do I write badly and think I don’t, now? It can get quite confusing in my head at times. It may be that I am on to something. Or am I being eccentric?

 §

One of the drawbacks to having the ability to record television for later watching, is that in February I’m still watching Jared ads for Christmas chocolate diamonds. God they are awful aren’t they? And those Target girls romping in fake snow with their perky little mittens. An innovation in recording would be to do it minus the ads. But then, sigh, an hour, would be 52 minutes, and 30 would be 22, and how can one order one’s life without  strict adherence to 30 and 60 minute segments. I mean all of life is rationed this way. It would be too bold. Or am I being eccentric?

§

If you have nothing much to think about today:

 “they” does not agree with a singular, gender-neutral referent by the single feature of number, “he” also does not agree with its singular, gender-neutral referent by the single feature of gender.”

Got that? Well it refers to the statement:

  I saw someone, but I don’t think they saw me.”

Up until about 200 years ago, they was correct, even though someone is singular. But it was changed to “he” and is now claimed to be generic which it is not. It’s he. So should we change back? I actually think I’m being a bit eccentric here, now.

§

 When is redistribution good?

As the New York Times points out.

The OWS says that we are sick and tired of the 1% redistributing all wealth only to the top.

The 1% calls this a call for “redistributing wealth”.

 Or is it merely returning it to the lawful owners?

Surely, I’m being eccentric now.

§

Maureen Dowd has a rather fun little piece about our Mittens.  And there is no eccentricity about that at all.

Related articles

• Eccentricity, Mathematics, and Peculiar People (siremethmimetes.wordpress.com)
• Creativity and the eccentric mind (writeyoufools.wordpress.com)
• New Anti-Romney Video Attacks Bain Capital Work (tribuneofthepeople.wordpress.com)
• Obama adviser: Voters have trouble trusting Romney (sfgate.com)

What’s Up? 07/28/10

Tags

advertising, Elizabeth Hasselbeck, gay rights, Google, lesbians, Madison Avenue, Muslims, Newt Gingrich, poets, racism, Rag Brai, scientists

You know, I’m all for technology. For the most part. By and large. As long as it suits my purposes.

Do they ever bother to ask me? Before they “upgrade” something? In a word. NO!

And since I am the CONSUMER, you would think my opinion might count. Does it? NO!

Okay, I could be referring to a hundred things I know, but I’m only referring to one at the moment.

Google! What are you thinking? Why can’t you leave chit alone?

Been to Google Images lately? Well, I’m there several times a day sometimes, finding the right picture that captures my senses. Well, guess what. They decided to CHANGE it. Used to be I got the requisite 25 pics or so, and then the ability to go to page 2 and so forth.

Not any more. I get my 25 pics, and NO MORE. Is that insane? And I don’t get the size under the pic any more, no I gotta hover over the pic to get that. And no more getting the pic alone. NO! I gotta get the website it came from.

Nobody asked me. I don’t want all that stuff. Why can’t they freakin’ leave chit alone? I check my e-mail every day, more than once. They never ASKED me what I thought. Idiots!

Anybody who has been around this joint for a goodly while has read a couple of my posts on Madison Avenue and the uber insanity of that institution. Their job is to create ads that make me drool, and whimper that I cannot live without some product. They get paid much moola for this.

Why they get paid a dime, I have no clue, because they generally generate the opposite effect. I vow after watching one of their commercials, never ever ever to buy the product in question.

Example:

Holiday Inn Express has an ad that says if I stay there I can be “myself.” Why I can be myself there they do not tell me. They imply of course that at other cheapy hotels, I cannot be myself. They do not tell me why that is either.

Moreover, they show me utterly dorky people who are apparently being “themselves.” Either they think that I too am a dork or that I will enjoy spending the night with dorks. Neither is true. I will never stay at a Holiday Inn Express for that reason. Hope they paid a lot of money for their ad. It sucks.

Soooo. How’s your day goin’? Mine is goin’ fairly peachy. A bit humid still but they claim a cold front is comin’ on through. That will be a relief. So, let’s straighten our bibs and see what is goin’ on around the intertubes.

Oh before I forget, another posting at 1000 Shitty Things. It’s a pretty good one, if I do say so. So mosey on over via the link at the menu up top. I probably should have made 1000ST’s a page instead of a new website for your convenience, but I didn’t not think of that at the time. So as I said, bookmark or enter into your reader so you don’t miss any installments. And do leave suggestions for other shitty things if you wish. I’ll use any that I can come up with some good fun with.

Lizbeth Hasselbeck, perennial loser in the lib-con debates on The View, has stuck her uber conservative foot in mouth once again. Last week she was causing Shirley Sherrod to roll her eyes as her silly questions (GOP’ers think that charging racism from “any venue” is a good defense to their being charged with racism. They never get the clue that their tactic is the best evidence of the charge against them, but never mind). Her latest sillism is that older women become gay because their aren’t enough available men in their age range. Yeah.  Hey bimbo, you are clueless dear. Video attached.

Highbrow alert! The New Atlantis has a provocative article on poets and scientists. Reviewing a new book called, The Age of Wonder: How the Romantic Generation Discovered the Beauty and the Terror of Science, by Richard Holmes. The art is worth the trip alone. For the culturally hungry.

Newt “Slippery” Gingrich gets on my last nerve. His latest attack against the planned mosque near Ground Zero is so filled with illogical nonsense as to be nearly unintelligible.  Joe Klein says you can tell when Newty is running for President. He gets angrier and stupider. That would seem born out. And the comments are just dessert!

We have this thing in Iowa called Rag Brai. I think I’m spelling it right. It’s a bicycle tour from west to east, the Missouri to the Mississippi. We have that noted trivia item. Our west and east boundaries are actually coasts, like Florida, except they are rivers not oceans.

The Contrarian hates Rag Brai. He hates bicycles. Well not bicycles per se. But bicycles on roads that cars drive on. He does not hate tractors on roads cars drive on. This is not explained. Tractors are just as slow, have to be gotten around and so forth. One is okay and the other not. Contrarians are contrary about explaining why sometimes.

Each year the organizers construct a different route. The bicyclers stop in various small towns along the way which is good for them, those that sell things that is. One year, not too many ago, it came through Troy Mills. The Contrarian refused to leave the land. “Can’t even go to the Troy Store for milk,” he harrumphed. He’s like that.

About the most exciting thing that happens during Rag Brai is that some poor soul dies along the way. I don’t know if they carry the body along the rest of the way or not. It would seem fitting to get it to it’s destination.

And no, I have no idea why it’s called Rag Brai. I may have at one point, but I forgot. It’s useless information unlikely to appear on Jeopardy as an answer. So I discarded that gem. I leave the accumulation of unnecessary and useless information to the Contrarian.

So, having, as it were, given you a bunch of mostly useless information, I’ve done my duty for the day, and am OFF. Tootles.

I Want to Ask

Tags

advertising, celebrities, courts, creationists, evolution, Gitmo, journalism, Madison Avenue, Media, Muslims, pets, rapture, terrorism, Young earthers

It seems an opportune time to rid my brain case of a few puzzling thoughts. Ain’t you glad you stopped by?

I want to ask all those who oppose trying the Gitmo detainees in American civilian courts if they have ever read the Declaration of Independence? I mean, given the fine patriots you all claim to be, I would think it would be something you read regularly at your patriotic meetings. Am I wrong?

There are lots of reasons why the right wingers don’t want the prisoners tried in open American courts. Mostly to keep the dirty laundry in the hamper I believe. Don’t want to let those Muslims use courtrooms as soap boxes to spout their rhetoric and at the same time, report all the sordid things done to them do we?

The one that is utterly ironic to me is the argument, that “they aren’t American and thus not entitled to our rights.” This is where the Declaration comes it. I believe somewhere in that document is says or words to the effect,

All men are created equal and are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights, . . . .

Does this mean what I think it means? All as in A L L? Didn’t one Georgie Dubya Bush talk about how it was our Christian duty to export democracy around the world and so that everyone had the wonderful rights we have? Hows come, the flip folks? No what goes around comes around? Enlighten me please.

I want to ask creationists what research they have done that proves their thesis that the earth was created by God around 6,500 (+/-) years ago? I mean scientists do science and offer their results to the world for examination and retesting. For reformulation, rehypothesizing, and new testing. What creationist has done any research at all?

It seems, as has been said by others, that they simply mine the data field, picking and choosing here and there, and then making up arguments without proofs of any kind. You’re beliefs are not testable propositions. Show us the research that proves your claims. Dare ya.

And don’t give me that bull that you aren’t required to be both a creationist and a young earth proponent. Course you are. If you believe in Genesis, creation story one, they you believe the earth is flat. That’s what the text alludes to. Are ya not smart enough to see that?

But of course, you probably aren’t smart enough, cuz if you were, you wouldn’t be a creationist in the first place. It’s why you believe that Stephen Colbert is a conservative too. You don’t have much grasp on the concept of irony do ya? Enlighten me.

I want to ask those ad men and women, just where in the H2O you came from? Why do you continue to run ads that are offensive and counter productive to your presumed cause?

Case in point. There is a ad for a toilet. Yeah, I know, who needs a commercial for THAT in the first place. But watch. The married dude sees a sexy “plumber” and then tries to sabotage his toilet by throwing all manner of crap down it, just so as how he can call the plumber and ogle her I guess. In walks the wifey as he is pouring dog food down the john. This is supposed to entice me to purchase your product?

Or this one: Levi Johnson talking about being protected or something. And then a wise guy banging another’s head onto a table to crack a nut. This to sell pistachios. This is neither humorous nor tells me anything I want to know about nuts. Except that you are one. And the idiot who decided to pay you for this is even more of one. Enlighten me.

I want to ask the media just how long ago it was that they started offering a course in “how to phone it in” at all our major schools of journalism? What you claim as journalism is sophomoric to say the least. Bloggers are making you look silly dudes.

We don’t mean Foxy of course. They are not lazy, they lie on purpose. They have an agenda, and lucky them, a following composed of atrophied brains so useless that said watchers cannot tell the difference between fact and fiction in the first, second and third place.

No, I’m talking about the insipid drivel that passes for journalism virtually everywhere. Every news cycle is dominated by more non-news that news. Tiger had an accident. It may be all innocent, or it may have a lot to do with a marriage gone sour. I don’t know, I don’t care, I don’t have any business knowing. Some celeb wannabe’s crashed the White House gig. Who they are? I don’t care, I don’t CARE!

Same for Letterman, and Oprah, and that Mackenzie had sex with daddy, and that Mike Tyson has grown up, and that Whitney has seen the light. I don’t care. I don’t care. When will you people get that I don’t care? Sigh.

I do care that 1 in 6 people today is applying for food stamps. I do care that our health care system is an immoral morass that caters to those with sufficient income. I do care that the climate is going to hell in a hand basket and nobody is doing much about it. I care you see about what real people are suffering through. I don’t give a rat’s bottom what rich people are “suffering” through mostly through their own stupidity and arrogance.

Can you all get that? I want to ask somebody, anybody. And while your at it, when you have nothing better to do, then at least promote things that are worthy of real consideration. Like this fine piece:

A site called Eternal Earth-Bound Pets, makes the following claims:

You’ve committed your life to Jesus. You know you’re saved.  But when the Rapture comes what’s to become of your loving pets who are left behind?   Eternal Earth-Bound Pets takes that burden off your mind. 

We are a group of dedicated animal lovers, and atheists. Each
Eternal Earth-Bound Pet representative is a confirmed atheist, and as such will still be here on Earth after you’ve received your reward.  Our network of animal activists are committed to step in when you step up to Jesus.

It seems right up the alley of those aforementioned brain leakers. They have so far had 100 takers and operate in 22 states. I guess, I should have something I want to ask them too, but I’ll have to think a while on this one.

Cooking by Any Other Name

Tags

advertising, cooking, food, pre-packaged meals

Somebody has to stand up and speak up! And since I see no one coming to the fore, it falls to me, alas to carry the message that we, chefs of the land, are being abused and derided. We must speak up and demand the justice that we are entitled to, lest future generations think we laid down and gave up without a fight. Our very digestive evolution is at stake!

Well, now that you are properly awakened to the seriousness of this post, let me relax a bit and set the stage.

I was a baby of the 50’s and so forth. It was in those dark ages of the past that certain greedy business types yearned to make money off the backs of American labor by instituting what they called “helps,” for women mostly. This took the expression in the past of things like vacuum cleaners, iceboxes, electric stoves and motorized washing machines. All pretty heady stuff.

But they had to go to food. What do women want? Less time in the kitchen! Perhaps they should have stuck to things like microwaves and appliances, dish washers, and cleaning materials, but no, they had to address food itself.

And of course they did. Today, any trip to the grocery store finds that around the perimeter of said building one finds food, identifiable as such, and the rest of the place is filled with boxed and frozen things that purport to be food. Whether we are compromised health wise is a big question, but not one we are addressing today.

No, we are addressing the unconscionable practice of equating boxed food with “creating a meal.” And I’m not prepared to let them get away with it any longer. The manufacturers, abetted by the ad agencies, have conspired to give people the impression that serving boxed food at a table with silverware constitutes “meal preparation.”

NO! “I OBJECT.” Point of order Mr. Parliamentarian.

Recently, I’ve noticed a few examples of this lie. Just the other day, someone reported that in  a recent survey by some organization, that some 60% of households reported that “family” meals were eaten (not fast food) 4-5 times a week.  I say BULL!

If it’s anything like what I see on TV commercials about “family meals” than it is nothing more than opening boxes and heating, wetting, or otherwise mixing up prepackaged stuff and calling it food.

A commercial the other day is a case in point. One is taken to Italy, and shopping for the ripest most perfect tomatoes, the perfect onions. Said material is sauteed and stirred on the stoves for some hours and then poured over lovely pasta. Except that the point of the ad is that one can achieve the same perfection by opening up this frozen package, microwaving, draining and combining two separate packets. One then is getting the same as the home made Italian sauce.

WHO ARE YOU KIDDING? The way to eat wholesome homemade food is to buy it in a frozen box and heat it up? I don’t think so.

Another case in point. A frazzled family. Mom and Dad are busy and the kids are busy. They realize the need for family meals. They gather together in the kitchen and “cook” together. There is sharing and bonding. There is STOUFFER’S LASAGNA! Heat that up mom and see the squeals of delight at the “home cooked” meal you prepared!

Home cooked my eye. You can’t push this crap off on me as food.

Okay, okay, so it is food of a sort. And yes, I too have imbibed such fare from time to time. I don’t think it’s wrong to eat such fare from now and again, when time is negligible and we have to move along. But let’s not claim it’s home cooked food. I mean this separates from “fast food” exactly how?

I spend more time in the kitchen that is required to put a box in the oven. I create pasta sauce. I create salsa. I create heavenly biscuits from scratch, lovely brownies from real chocolate. I know the inside of a can of baking powder and have touched real flour. I want recognition for my efforts! I create home made food, and if you don’t then I am better than you!

Well, maybe we don’t need to go that far. I’m not necessarily better, but maybe a little? Actually the problem here is not being acknowledged by the hubby. When the commercials make it so dang “simple,” then my efforts are not rewarded. The Contrarian sees no need to offer to wash dishes so much, or take me out to eat, when he sees this “home made meal” so easy to concoct on the screen.

It’s hard slavish work this cooking and I want my kudos damn it! I’m working my little nubbins to the bone in that there kitchen and I have the mess to prove it. Don’t wipe out all my efforts by showing the career mother with seventeen kids and pets spinning off a four course delight hardly breaking a sweat! It makes me look bad. It makes my efforts look silly and prissy.

I want my recognition, and I want it now!

A Big HO HO. . . .Humph?

Tags

advertising, Christmas, Essays, Jesus, Madison Avenue

It truly does start earlier every year, and this year especially we started to see the advertising begin before Halloween. It’s the Christmas season and all is jolly right?

No, not really. No, not at all. In fact it sucks, and the older I get the more it sucks. Bah humbug! That’s what I say.

It didn’t used to be this way. As a child, I thought Christmas the most grand of all holidays. It was the top of the heap, king of the hill, extra best most special, toe-tingling extravaganza imaginable. I recall those exciting times at school, where we could barely contain ourselves that last week before the Christmas break. Then those feverish days and evenings at home, wrapping gifts, shopping with either parent, and oh gosh the pure thrill of picking out that tree, setting it up, and decorating! Every single icicle perfectly draped over the branch, hanging perfectly straight until the whole tree took on a shimmering glow of silver and twinkling lights.

Sleep was full of dreams of Santa and presents. Mostly presents. And they came in dozens for me, an only kid. A kid whose family lived comfortably in the “lower middle class/upper working class” realm. I collected stuff by the truck load, from parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins. It was a veritable bonanza of excess and I reveled in it, unwilling to let the day go, but extending it for several more, nay, through January 1 at least.

There really ought to be a law. It ought to be illegal to let a kid have such wonderful Christmas after wonderful Christmas. Because for most, it simply cannot last, and the fall downward into reality is hard and painful. For me it was complicated by divorce, which left me scrambling between two households each Christmas morn, and worse, both were dedicated to me, and I was sorely aware of that fact as well. I was the prize to be held onto. Who would get me for dinner? Who would get me first?

But in truth, it happens to most of us as we reach adulthood. Now some, who have children, avoid this to some degree. They re-experience the excitement and joy through their kids. But that too can fade, as kids become parents, and then there is another household to placate on this one day. No, the sad fact is that by adulthood, most of us have lost our love affair in reality with Christmas as a secular event.

Are we allowed to let go of the fantasy we have contrived in our youth? Certainly not! Madison Avenue has other more ugly plans. It intends to perpetuate the Ozzie & Harriet, Leave it to Beaver, Father Knows Best, perfection that is known as the Christmas nobody really has, but we all think is the norm for everyone else syndrome.

It starts way too early each year of course. That tantalizing commercial that starts to appear. Diamonds are required of men who are dating or married. That is the only fitting way to show your girlfriend/wife that she is truly beloved. Cars are, well, they are something that REALLY shows you care. But heck, there are other things too, that establish one’s perfect devotion. Chia pets for some, sweaters, slippers, scarves, and oh don’t forget perfume. Beware of things like exercise equipment, kitchen appliances, and other household things. They can be misinterpreted as disguised hints that you aren’t looking your best or cleaning or cooking well.

But don’t just focus on the gift items themselves. Look at the surroundings. People are outside throwing snowballs, dressed in mere sweaters and swanky scarves. Everyone has perfectly coiffed hair, everyone is smiling, everyone is attractive and has perfectly white teeth. Laughter abounds everywhere. All doors have wreaths to welcome the hordes that descend on everyone’s doorstep. Everyone is popular and has oodles of friends and family. Everyone has a piano, and caroling occurs nightly on “Perfect Neighborhood” Street.

Everyone dresses to the nines. All the kids are cute, clean and dressed in finery that would make a grandmother cry with happiness. Everyone drinks responsibly. Everyone decorates with Martha Stewart, with each ornament, a cheap $10 a piece. Only need about 30 of those babes to light up that tree. What is a mere $300 for tree ornaments? Special plates and glassware, matching tablecloths, napkins, and centerpieces round out the decorating finery.

Everyone is shopping and laughing and happy. It’s quite a bit like those delightful “Christmas Villages” you can put together on a big table you buy just for that purpose to wow everyone. Everyone has a train running around the tree too right? Don’t forget that card for the mailman! Don’t forget to cook for a month to get ready. Breads, cookies, pies, cakes, to say nothing of another meal that is to end all meals. We are all so dang happy aren’t we?

Except, except it’s not like that I dare say for most of us. The tree falls over and breaks six very old ornaments one year, you slip and fall on the sidewalk and sprain your back. It’s cold, wet and miserable on Christmas morning, rain washes away the slight sludgy snow that did exist. Parents are divorced, parents die, you are alone in a state where you know nobody at all. You are old, poor, widowed, childless. You are overseas in wars, you are estranged from family because you are gay and they can’t accept it. You are under employed, not employed. You can’t afford to buy your kids all the things they want. Children are sick in hospitals. The stories are endless, but the point is that most people are not surrounded by loved ones and singing carols around the piano on Christmas eve. Nope, mostly its a dull day, that we attempt to brighten up with a string of lights and a turkey.

My point is not to bring people down, but to suggest that Madison Avenue is to blame. I dare say people didn’t expect so much of Christmas before the television showed us this ungodly untrue picture of holiday bliss. They continue to perpetrate it, year after year, making millions of folks miserable as they subconsciously expect and bemoan that they don’t have the Christmas happiness portrayed in every commercial.

Madison Avenue does this to sell stuff. Stuff we don’t need for the most part. That’s all the more reason why they need to make us think we do. But this year it seems even worse than before. This year it seems like a cruel mockery of reality. And I’m not sad, no I am just plain pissed off!

How dare they begin the season before Halloween? Little kids have very little concept of time. It seems sooooooooo long when you are young. Time drags like it is a 1,000 pound ball being pulled by a midget. So thanks on behalf of all parents. Thanks for getting my little ones all geeked up even more weeks ahead of time making them harder than heck to keep in line. Teachers thank you too as they do their best to contain youthful exuberance all geared for presents and chocolate and candy canes.

Oh, and a special thanks since in this putrid economy I can’t buy my kids any where near all the things they have come to expect. Thanks for pointing out to them that “all the other kids” have Nintendo and new computers, and Iphones and Ipods and all the other shiny electronics. Yes they expect that big wide flat screen TV to watch Madagascar on!

Now of course, you can blame this all on me, since I obviously haven’t taught them to regard Christmas as the holy time it is. I have tried you know, but it’s powerfully hard to eradicate all the time you spend teaching them otherwise. You are good at what you do.

I am amazed that that is so, since I find most of your commercial efforts ridiculous in the extreme. After watching one of your gems of enticement, I almost never want to buy the product, but nay, i rather am sure I never will. But still, you must have the charts and graphs to prove that it works. It doesn’t work on me however. I find your commercials supercilious. But that’s just me apparently.

Now I would be enticed should you market your junk this way: Folks, we know times are tough, and you don’t have a lot to spend. We are not going to glut our stores with decorations in this somber time. We are going to set up a place in one corner where we are going to offer you the best prices we can afford and still make a small profit. We are going to offer you some fun items, but mostly stuff you can really use at the best prices. We hope in this small way, we can contribute to making the holiday a bit easier for you and your loved ones.

That will never happen! Anyway, I just wanted to remind everyone that most of us are going to get through the holidays. We aren’t buying much, we aren’t decorating much. We aren’t traveling and visiting. We are just having another day, in which we will fix a pretty nice meal, relax with a good movie, maybe find an item that we can afford together as a gift to ourselves, and that’s it. That’s fine, because you know what? Scores of people don’t even have that. So I’m grateful. I have a loving husband, a roof over my head, food to eat, and pets to enjoy. I still feel bad when I forget that TV doesn’t represent reality. But I remember the truth again.

As Christians this day has another meaning, and I plan to spend plenty of time remembering that, and thinking about what that means to me as how I am to live my life. It’s a good deal more uplifting than watching elves race around Santa land preparing the sleigh. It is a day of hope, peace, and re dedication to qualities of hospitality, friendship, community, and love. Don’t be sad this Christmas if yours fails to meet the Madison Avenue standard. Try to meet Jesus’ standard and it will be enough indeed.