STARTING 4/8/17: Six Word Saturday is now being hosted by the lovely Debbie at Travel With Intent. If you aren't already following Debbie, please visit her blog for Six Word Saturday and her beautiful photos. I'll continue to participate from time to time but please go to Debbie's for the official posts.
If you aren't receiving email replies to your comments, please see this post.
Monday, December 21, 2009
This is a holiday-related post so I'm going to warn you right now that I say non-politically correct things like Christmas and Jesus and Walmart. Just in case that sort of thing bothers you, please feel free to bail now.
Specifically, I would like to address a certain Christmas song. It's one of only three that I find so horrid I must change the station immediately. The song in question is The Christmas Shoes.
For anyone unfamiliar (and I don't want to spoil it for you) the song is about a little boy in a store at Christmas, buying some shoes for his mama. The hook is that he's short on cash and his mama is dying. He wants to buy the shoes so she can "be beautiful when mama meets Jesus tonight". Of course the guy behind him in line rushes to pay for them and is jolted from his evil consumerism in time to remember the true meaning of Christmas. And then the choir of children make their final plea because if you haven't burst into tears at this part, the final push of wide-eyed youngsters should do the trick.
This song makes me feel bad in all the wrong ways. I don't feel bad for this kid OR his mama. In fact, I want to call Social Services. Why is this kid wandering around Walmart (c'mon, you know it's Walmart) by himself trying to panhandle strangers into buying his mama some "Made in China" shoes for $8.96? Where's his papa? I guess papa's too busy with mama to keep track of the kid. And if I happened to be the guy behind him in line I'd probably pay for the shoes just to get him to stop with the sob story and quit holding up the line.
This song makes me feel the same way I'd imagine I would feel if I kicked puppies or poked sleeping babies. (For the record, I have never kicked puppies. I may have poked a sleeping baby or two, but that was just to make sure they were still breathing.) I understand how I'm supposed to feel but that's not what I'm experiencing at all. I'm not proud of this but it is what it is.
I think mostly I'm just angry because I hate being emotionally manipulated. Anything too saccharin, too syrupy, too made for tv makes me feel crazy in my rebellion to prove I'm not susceptible to their ploys.
Yeah, take THAT, sorcerers of sentiment. My heartstrings will not be so easily tugged by your carefully crafted formulas. My heartstrings are impervious to your tricks. I'm not even sure I have a heart anyways, let alone the attached strings.
P.S. Ok, see what you people (Lyndsay, I'm looking at YOU!!!) make me do? I actually made myself go to YouTube and search for the song just so I could include a link. Do you know how messed up that's going to make my "recommended videos"? I'm crying on the inside. Again, for the wrong reasons.
P.P.S. Oh yeah, the link, complete with lyrics on the side. Don't say I didn't warn you.