My employer emailed an electronic card today to our members that said “Happy Holidays” and featured an image of Grover and a little kid standing in a snowy field and looking up in amazement as animated snow falls. It’s a delightful picture full of childlike wonder, sure to soothe even the more hardened hearts among us. But evidently not all. Here’s a message immediately received in response to this cute holiday greeting:
it’s Christmas you pagan idiot.
Well, Merry Fucking Christmas to you, asshole. For one, the person who created and emailed the greeting is Jewish. For two, most of us – including my non-religious ass – are aware that Christmas has pagan roots. Perhaps the crank who felt so moved to send a nasty message should spend a little more time reading up on his religion and a little less time being outraged.
And another step toward the idiocracy is taken… (This is why I’m not the person who responds to complaints over here.)
In other Christmas news, I was happy to purchase a Sit-N-Spin for my nephew, who is not yet two. (Funny coincidence – were I allowed to respond to the guy mentioned above, my message would include the phrase “sit-n-spin.”) The gifts I got Rowan tie my childhood to his:
- A Sit-N-Spin for old school action. Remember when we were kids (oh brother) and the upper disc of the S-N-S had a swirl design that turned into a never-ending spiral when you were in motion, thus adding to the trippiness of the experience? It’s gone. Today’s S-N-S is just solid colors. Bore-ring. Of course, these days kids probably place their iPods or mini-DVD players on the top part, so they wouldn’t see the spiral anyway. (Get off my lawn!)
- A “laptop” for modern times. The age ranges on toys really give insight into how different kids are (or how differently they’re treated) now compared to 20, 30 or 40 years ago. The toys for two- and three-year-olds are highly technical, requiring dexterity and an understanding of electronics that I probably didn’t have until I was in third grade. The next generation may end up not knowing how to write in complete sentences, but even the most dim-witted of their group will be able to program the flight path of the space shuttle (if that program hadn’t been shit-canned in our era).
- Clothes. The typical boring relative gift. I’ll back off the clothes buying once the kids are old enough to get it. I want to be the cool aunt, not the one who gives them socks and a sweater. But baby clothes are so fun to buy. That’s about all that Molly is receiving. She’s only five months, so she’s not quite ready for the laptop. Maybe a fake cellphone…
I should have time to write tomorrow because I’ll be one of, like, three people at work. But in case I don’t, Merry Fucking Christmas and Happy Goddamn New Year.