a) “2000 Miles” by Coldplay
“2000 Miles”
isn't a Coldplay original, but to me it sounds like their early
songs. It's kind of a bleak song, but like a lot of Coldplay tracks,
it almost sounds hopeful, in a dark, snowy kind of way.
Also, I know how you know that I'm gay.
b) "A Huey Freeman Christmas" from The Boondocks
The
Boondocks has always been a show that knows exactly what it wants to
do and then does it, savagely and hilariously. When the show took on
BET, it went for the balls and squeezed tightly, depicting it as the
most evil organization in the world. So when a dangerously satirical
show like this takes on Christmas, you can expect it to be scathing,
right? With lines like “Christmas is about how Santa died for our
gifts and rose from the dead and moved to the North Pole and because
of that, every year Santa comes down to forgive our sins and give us
eternal presents,” you'd expect some cynical depiction of the
holiday season.
Well, yes and no.
Huey's venture as
writer/director of the school Christmas play, “The Adventures of
Black Jesus,” is a way of debunking Christmas myths in a way I
actually enjoyed. This may be because of how over-the-top the whole
concept was, getting multi-million dollar black actors to star in an
elementary school production. It also has some of the best lines,
which are just as good out of context:
“You were
just, 'Blah blah gay sex blah blah congress.' You've got to be
interesting!”
“Don't look
at Quincy Jones! Quincy Jones ain't gonna help you!”
But somehow the
show finds a heart in its most deplorable character, Uncle Ruckus,
who comforts young Jasmine when she hears that Santa isn't real. It
may be twinged with Ruckusian racism, but it's a disarmingly sweet
moment, which the show rarely gives us.
And now for the
best scene:
c) Making Christmas lists
When I was growing
up, my Christmas lists were dope. They were multi-page annotated
masterpieces of consumerist craving. Santa Claus had no choice but to
marvel at my zeal and professionalism. And, most importantly, they
were really easy to make; I would go through countless Toys R Us
catalogs, finding everything I just needneedneeded and then be done
in twenty minutes, just enough time to make indestructible snow forts
by the edge of the driveway.
Nowadays, I need
at least a month of prep. I have to weigh every last option of what
people might feasibly give me (adult toys are a lot more expensive
than kid toys, it turns out). I have to give measurements (30/34
pants, extra room in the crotch if you know what I mean) and, almost
as important, I have to include a list of what NOT to get me. (“For
the love of God, if I get another pair of socks, I'm disowning you as
a grandmother.”)
There's just so
much pressure to get everything right on a Christmas list, like it's
an essay question anymore. Becoming an adult takes the best part of
making a Christmas list out of the equation: the element of surprise.
Sure, my lists were always obsessively specific, but they were also
just templates, a springboard for other ideas. I might not get this
Spider-Man toy, but I'd get surprised with some other Spider-Man toy
on Christmas Day, and I would be nowhere near disappointed. Now, if I
don't write “new wallet,” I sure as shit am not getting a new
wallet. What happened to knowing a person well enough to finding
random gifts not-asked-for, but still right up their alley? Can I
expect a Sonic the Hedgehog t-shirt this year? No, because it's not
on my list—I just thought of it now—even though my entire family
knows how much I love the speedy little blue guy. (I should probably
go outside at some point...)
Christmas lists
are one of my least favorite parts of the season. I find them
confining and demanding. I WANT THESE THINGS, DAMMIT! MOTHER, FETCH
ME THE NEW TAYLOR SWIFT RECORD! A little spontaneity never hurt
anyone, right?
NEWS REPORT
TOMORROW: Chris Slattery, stabbed to death after taking a new route
to work.
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