I’ve heard a kind of depressing story the last couple of days about a bureau of the Postal Service tasked with opening letters to Santa Claus. Here’s a somewhat strange version from NPR’s All Things Considered in which Robert Siegel tries to lighten things up with some lame quips. They’ve been finding that, this year, kids are tending less to ask for gaming consoles and the like than stuff like warm coats, shoes, etc. Just a hint of how rough people have it these days – a peek into the Dickensian hellscape inhabited by the millions upon millions of children (and their parents) living in poverty. Our top-down economy is literally killing hope before it even has the chance to learn how to express itself.
I’m not a practicing Christian, nor am I big on organized religion in general, but if there’s one thing valuable about the Christmas season it’s the sense of possibility it can engender in people – not so much the expectation of personal gain, but more the notion that things can be better, that in the midst of an unforgiving universe, we can be fair and decent to one another. So in a way these letters show that, even in the midst of an unrelenting consumer culture, these kids are more focused on those ideals than might be expected. So even though Santa may not be coming for many of them, they are very good little girls and boys indeed.
That’s not to say that Santa isn’t coming for anyone. Not a bit of it. Our nation’s millionaires and billionaires can now expect a little something extra in their Christmas stocking, like another yacht or a Lamborghini, perhaps. Yes, the tax compromise package has been passed by both houses of Congress and is on the way to Obama for his signature. That means low, low taxes for everybody, ludicrously low estate tax rates, and an untold bonanza for the richest 1% in general. Also… a pile of additional, non-investment debt to be paid off at some point uncertain, a significant undermining of the funding vehicle for Social Security, and a paltry 13-month extension to unemployment benefits.
And for those kids, maybe some second-hand shoes for mom. Jesus… this is why we suck.
luv u,
jp
No, it’s not my brain. It’s my list of songs. Sixty five songs and counting. Shoo-wee, right? That’s enough songs to fuel the enormous asbestos-clad boiler of the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill for a hundred years. (Well, that may be a slight exaggeration.) What was it I heard Lincoln (or anti-Lincoln) saying the other day? Oh, yeah. “A chicken’ll make you a meal… or it’ll lay enough eggs for a thousand breakfasts. A lamb – that’s about two weeks worth of mutton. Or you can have warm wool coats from now until doomsday…” That Lincoln- just brimming with frontier wisdom. (Actually, I think he borrowed that from Royal Dano in one of his more nefarious incarnations on The Big Valley, Lincoln’s favorite T.V. drama.)
Sure, there’s that. Then there are the songs that are complete and yet still in the can, never released commercially. Mostly these are recordings that have no proper album to call home. They are made in the usual Big Green way – lay out a polymer disc, slather it full of mastic, add music and apply pressure… much pressure. Then toss. Well… we tossed them a little too far, perhaps, and no one has had the energy to go and pick them up. Those will likely see the light of day at some point, though I don’t know exactly when. (Let me consult with my fellow nut cases and get back to you.)