![How To Deal: McChristmas Edition
Me-oh-my, it’s chilly today, isn’t it, kids? Let me just take a seat over here by the fireplace and sip my eggnog[i] while I talk a little bit about life.
I’ve had some crazy times lately, but, mainly, I have started to think about war. I spend a great deal of time reading things like this and this and this, re-watching this, musing on about this and this, and writing about this, but it’s now become very clear: it’s time to start reading things like this and this and this. The jig is up.
To that end, I went to find a book I borrowed from a friend called “War Is A Force That Gives Us Meaning”, and I finally opened it up. And then I closed it after three minutes. One of the reasons I hated that one very important movie is that I don’t have to try very hard to empathize[ii]. I could be watching anything involving bombs, artillery, war tanks, with shrapnel flying, set in any period, involving any sorts of people, and feel the same vicious terror and grief. It’s always the same, and then I always want to stop watching whatever I’m watching[iii]. But I don’t, because I like movies.
That’s why I love anything that alludes to or deals with prior wars in a critical manner; as a (sometimes intelligent? Still unsure about this one) species we would, probably, be better off if we were more cognizant of what we’ve been capable and of what blowing up people actually means. If the past were considered more, in the present, I’d probably really like being a member of humanity, as opposed to shrugging about it all the time. Ok, and just so we’re clear, I go out of my way to make myself feel better about being alive, like this, in this hemisphere, by watching The Real Housewives. I’m no better than anyone.
So anyway, back to why I closed that book. The intro went on and on about war being a drug, and a lie, and a God, and that it brings the worst out of us, but, also, the best. I guess I recoil at these premises and that kind of language and tone because I think our inabilities to bond with and care for each other until we’re pushed to do so out of survival are ugly[iv]. We already need each other. We’re at our best when we give and learn and explore and we don’t have to.
Anyway, I’m sure that it’s a very informative book, but I’m definitely gonna need something else, written by a different type of writer, someone who isn’t interested in making war into a subjective narrative. Like, that’s cool, and if you do so, you’ll probably win an Oscar[v], but I’m good. So, that kind of book, the kind that makes me want to kill myself for not partaking in activism[vi], that book is on my McChristmas wish-list.
Other ways of celebrating McChristmas are to think about sweat-shops and Juarez and the meat industry. Also, sitting and staring at the McChristmas decorations still in their boxes on the floor next to the tree is another excellent way to pass the time until someone says, “Get up! You smell like raw egg and liquor! You need to go to work!”
Ho-ho-ho, Merry McChristmas, kids!
[i] Mostly brandy.
[ii] This statement—“That movie is like you’re there”—isn’t good enough for me. I feel that way about every war movie. So? I also hated the (probably accidentally glorifying?) scene at the end with the music and the slow motion sauntering and the way we’re supposed to be all like that’s fucked up, dawg, but I was like yo, that’s not as fucked up as it should be, homies, real talk. I have a brother and brother-in-law and people I grew up with who were all deployed, and it’s a lot more horrifying than that stupid movie.
[iii] I think I started to cry when I saw Children of Men. Did you cry, too? Y/N? I’m pretty sure N. But if you circled Y, you’re my bestest friend. Do you accept, Y/N?
[iv] Not ugly, pug ugly, fugly, pug fugly; but, ugly ugly.
[v] I want to win an Oscar, so I’m going to make a movie kind of about the war in a kind of subjective manner.
[vi] Any book about veganism will suffice for this category; I’m realizing I’m going to need to also be vocal about THAT as well, or else I might as well marry rich and wear a lot of scoop neck blouses and star in a show where I’m called A Real Housewife a lot and yell a lot.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ldg1dkQd3O1qzxa5bo1_400.jpg)
How To Deal: McChristmas Edition
Me-oh-my, it’s chilly today, isn’t it, kids? Let me just take a seat over here by the fireplace and sip my eggnog[i] while I talk a little bit about life.
I’ve had some crazy times lately, but, mainly, I have started to think about war. I spend a great deal of time reading things like this and this and this, re-watching this, musing on about this and this, and writing about this, but it’s now become very clear: it’s time to start reading things like this and this and this. The jig is up.
To that end, I went to find a book I borrowed from a friend called “War Is A Force That Gives Us Meaning”, and I finally opened it up. And then I closed it after three minutes. One of the reasons I hated that one very important movie is that I don’t have to try very hard to empathize[ii]. I could be watching anything involving bombs, artillery, war tanks, with shrapnel flying, set in any period, involving any sorts of people, and feel the same vicious terror and grief. It’s always the same, and then I always want to stop watching whatever I’m watching[iii]. But I don’t, because I like movies.
That’s why I love anything that alludes to or deals with prior wars in a critical manner; as a (sometimes intelligent? Still unsure about this one) species we would, probably, be better off if we were more cognizant of what we’ve been capable and of what blowing up people actually means. If the past were considered more, in the present, I’d probably really like being a member of humanity, as opposed to shrugging about it all the time. Ok, and just so we’re clear, I go out of my way to make myself feel better about being alive, like this, in this hemisphere, by watching The Real Housewives. I’m no better than anyone.
So anyway, back to why I closed that book. The intro went on and on about war being a drug, and a lie, and a God, and that it brings the worst out of us, but, also, the best. I guess I recoil at these premises and that kind of language and tone because I think our inabilities to bond with and care for each other until we’re pushed to do so out of survival are ugly[iv]. We already need each other. We’re at our best when we give and learn and explore and we don’t have to.
Anyway, I’m sure that it’s a very informative book, but I’m definitely gonna need something else, written by a different type of writer, someone who isn’t interested in making war into a subjective narrative. Like, that’s cool, and if you do so, you’ll probably win an Oscar[v], but I’m good. So, that kind of book, the kind that makes me want to kill myself for not partaking in activism[vi], that book is on my McChristmas wish-list.
Other ways of celebrating McChristmas are to think about sweat-shops and Juarez and the meat industry. Also, sitting and staring at the McChristmas decorations still in their boxes on the floor next to the tree is another excellent way to pass the time until someone says, “Get up! You smell like raw egg and liquor! You need to go to work!”
Ho-ho-ho, Merry McChristmas, kids!
[i] Mostly brandy.
[ii] This statement—“That movie is like you’re there”—isn’t good enough for me. I feel that way about every war movie. So? I also hated the (probably accidentally glorifying?) scene at the end with the music and the slow motion sauntering and the way we’re supposed to be all like that’s fucked up, dawg, but I was like yo, that’s not as fucked up as it should be, homies, real talk. I have a brother and brother-in-law and people I grew up with who were all deployed, and it’s a lot more horrifying than that stupid movie.
[iii] I think I started to cry when I saw Children of Men. Did you cry, too? Y/N? I’m pretty sure N. But if you circled Y, you’re my bestest friend. Do you accept, Y/N?
[iv] Not ugly, pug ugly, fugly, pug fugly; but, ugly ugly.
[v] I want to win an Oscar, so I’m going to make a movie kind of about the war in a kind of subjective manner.
[vi] Any book about veganism will suffice for this category; I’m realizing I’m going to need to also be vocal about THAT as well, or else I might as well marry rich and wear a lot of scoop neck blouses and star in a show where I’m called A Real Housewife a lot and yell a lot.
