Over the last week or so, I’ve noticed all these ads on TV. With Santa Claus in them. And it’s not like these commercials are merely appropriating the likeness of Santa’s image in order to peddle their products. No, Mr. Claus himself personally appears in these ads and plays an active role in helping these companies sell their wares.
In other words, it turns out that Santa Claus is a fucking sell out! Just like the rest of them!
And this devastates me on such a personal and profound level, I can’t even begin to tell you. But I’ll try.
See, I used to be Santa’s number-one biggest fan back when I was a kid. And I remember each year around holiday season, all my friends would be asking their parents for brand-name-X pair of designer jeans, or state-of-the-art-company-Y’s latest video game console. But not me, no siree. When my parents asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I told them that I was totally down with whatever artisan hand-crafted toys Santa and his merry band of D.I.Y. punk-rock arctic elves decided to churn out that year.
And I loved those fucking D.I.Y. artisan toys!
But now in retrospect, it seems clear that the man that I used to non-ironically call “St. Nick” was just biding his time. He was merely building up his indie cred, until he finally got the big blockbuster company deal. And he fucking cashed in.
What a fucking sell out.
I am never quite sure whether I should “punch up” or “spruce up” the language.
So rather than putting the finishing touches on this piece and submitting it for publication, I’ve instead decided to pour myself a glass of wine, take the last remaining Percocet from my root canal last year, stare at the textured patterns in my stucco ceiling, and contemplate all the (if you ask me, quite significant) differing implications of “punching” versus “sprucing” up language as it applies to my forthcoming listicle about the thirteen most unflattering dresses worn at this year’s Academy Awards™. Which will be coming soon to a pop culture, and/or fashion, and/or entertainment, and/or Hollywood gossip, and/or serious news outlet desperate for advertising revenue, website near you.
But not until I finish the damned thing.
Nothing is quite so profound and fulfilling as seeing someone on social media “like” or “favorite” a horribly written movie review that decries the woeful acting and editing in a newly released film that itself was intended to be a critique of modern society.
Sometimes people will complain because their favorite television series has recently “jumped the shark.” But you know, things could be worse. For instance, the TV show could have failed to successfully “jump the shark,” and been eaten by the shark instead.
You have to admit that this would be a far worse fate. Although, it would probably make for entertaining TV.