Funny thing about the end of summer these days, there's just no love for month number nine. Kids deplore it because it means homework again, and parents ignore it as they prepare for the holiday onslaught. Hell, even the movies blow. Worse, you're launched directly into Christmas, at least at most major department stores. Lowe's Home Improvement, for instance, completely bypasses Halloween and assaults you with pre-lit fake trees and decorations the minute you set foot. I yearn for the nearest rifle and clock tower when those animatronic holiday toys blare from their shelf. Why must everything talk, move, sing and fart Christmas music? When I was a child, I was content with the 16" Santa Claus that waved at me. I did not need him to wiggle his fat ass to 'Jingle Bell Rock' nor Rudolph's nose to light up in ten different fiber optic colors.
For the love of everything in this expanding universe, can we PLEASE find a way to balance our consumer-driven economic reliance on the holiday season to allow us to luxuriate in what little of autumn we're allowed? Oh, and as for Halloween stuff? Love it. Bring it on. I would prefer to stand in line at Target and stare at a 5 year-old giddy with his brand new Michael Myers mask and machete than deal with Frosty the Snowman barking 'Let it Snow' in a New York accent.
And as we vicariously step away from September, please take a moment to appreciate it for its subtlety and thankless role of transition.
4 comments:
But, Alfredo's birthday is in September. And so is their anniversary. That must count for something right?
i guess i'm the other part of the "their" in that sentence. and yes, on alfredo's birthday and on our anniversary and on...and on... i get the shaft. a big mexican shaft. and that's why, contrary to popular belief, september is such an awesome month.
Personally, I love September. We actually have seasonal transitions up here on the 49th, and turning of the leaves; so there's all this beauty to contemplate.
And oncoming snow to curse and shovel. But that's later.
Santa would get his red-felted ass broiled if he tried to squeeze himself and drop tacky gifts down the fireplaces up here. We actually use them all winter for heat. But you folks can't conceive of that - it's only cooled down to 82 in L.A. and you're still expelling burrito fumes through your Target cotton shorts. Right.
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