Y is for Yuletide
I totally get the Grinch. The poor old guy lives all alone up in his cave with only a mangy dog for company while the residents of Whoville go on about the business of living their selfish little lives and completely ignoring the Grinch. And then, every year, they make it a point to celebrate Christmas as boisterously and obtrusively as possible, thereby forcing their belief system on the Grinch, who probably just wants to be left in peace to gaze at the stars with his own quiet dreams of cheerful solitude.
And then, when he finally couldn’t take it anymore, I’m sure the Whos were ready for him. He probably couldn’t leave his cave without triggering Whoville’s Early Warning Defense System and relegating his whole carefully thought out plan to the crapper. As he was sledding down the hill in his bright red Santa Claus disguise, the Whos were able to utilize real time satellite imagery confirming both the present location of the authentic St. Nick and the identity, destination and probable intentions of the Grinch. As he slunk around their homes stealing every last vestige of holiday cheer, concealed cameras with night vision infrared capability tracked his every movement. And finally, Special Agent Cindy Lou Who was sent in to establish contact, gather intel and provide a rudimentary psychological profile to specialists working on counterattack strategies. The poor old hermit didn’t have a chance.
I, on the other hand, plan to remain steadfastly in “Bah Humbug” mode as long as I draw breath. I know it’s not going to be easy. Christmas seems to arrive earlier and earlier each year. I can hardly shop for my Halloween costume without coming across at least one tawdry, obsessively festive Christmas display of poorly constructed red and white knickknacks. And I find it difficult to enjoy Thanksgiving properly while being forced to live in a neighborhood lit up with Christmas lights capable of being seen from space. And don’t even get me started on the music – eight hours of Handel’s Messiah on Christmas morning is about all I can stand without seriously considering voluntarily deafening myself with a red hot poker.
It all comes down to the fact that I can only be nice to people for a finite amount of time, and with Christmas encroaching on the rest of my holidays, I had been thinking a nice cave in the Grinch’s neighborhood might be a viable option until the Whos screwed that up for me. The Grinch is probably baking Christmas cookies right now for the Neighborhood Watch. Thanks a lot, Whoville. Merry Freakin’ Christmas to you, too.