The Option of Stress Monster Agnosticism
I think you’ll enjoy this short funny video with lots of swears:
I generally resist wholesale condemnations of the universe based on arbitrary snapshots of linear time. I usually don’t even go along with designating events as “good” or “bad”, preferring to just see a world where everything is constantly falling apart and rebuilding. It’s a non-stop series of carbon explosions, really, and death is in there along with newborn babies and earthquakes and strip malls and wrecking balls. We never bought tickets for the big roller coaster but here we are, the lap bar is in place, so hold on.
In this case, I will not rise above, however. Fuck you, 2020.
Let Karen be Carin’
I’ve known lots of nice people named Karen. I can’t think of any problematic Karens. Can we come up with a different term, maybe one that isn’t gender-specific, for that type of person? Snogrolina?
Oh you know her. Total Snogrolina. Why does he have to be such a Snogrolina when we go out to dinner? Oh no, they’re talking to the cashier. I hope they don’t Snogrolina it up this time.
The Greatest Gift is Either Freedom or a PS5 and You’re Getting One
I don’t belong to any religion. My preferred spiritual belief is only to shrug my shoulders and admit that I don’t know how the universe works. But I’ve always observed Christmas so, I guess, cultural Christian. And there’s always some dread in the holiday for me. And fear.
I think it helps to think of Christmas as a monster. Huge, toothsome, muscular, and loud, you hear its roars in the distance starting in, like, October. You know that the monster will come to town in December for the annual rampage. It never doesn’t happen.
To sate the monster, we’ve all agreed that certain rituals must be performed. Or else.
You absolutely have to:
Be with extended family
Get a tree and decorate it with the ornaments you’ve had forever
Make the foods your family had when you were a kid
Spend so much money in order to buy so many presents in order to make it the best Christmas ever
Go to the right church at the right time
Perform 8000 other compulsory acts
This Christmas, I want you to give yourself the gift of freedom. I’m declaring that it is now OK to Marie Kondo that biz. It is a disruptive, nothing-will-ever-be-the-same time in our cultural history so therefore the perfect moment to leverage that and clean out all the compulsions that bring you no joy. Kick out the traditions that just make you feel like you’ve performed the correct compulsions to not anger the monster.
Jill and I are having Ethiopian food for Christmas because it’s the food that makes us happiest. The kids get to pick their favorite foods as well. We got the tree because we like the tree and only about half of the ornaments - the ones that truly make us smile - made it on the tree. The gifts will not break the bank and will emphasize fun because it’s December in Minnesota during a pandemic and fun must nurture us.
Because the thing is: there does not have to be a monster. The stress rituals - the things you did even though you didn’t want to - were the things drawing the monster nearer. You can jettison all the stress rituals and still not have Godzilla show up. And if Godzilla does show up, give him a cookie and a mug of hot cocoa and maybe a nice book.
Or…
You could be like the Puritans and just ban Christmas for 22 years.
A Show About Everything
If you have Home Box Office Maximum, I very much recommend a program called How To with John Wilson. Toting a forgettable title and with no big star or laser weapons attached, the show is easy to overlook. But you mustn’t.
John Wilson is sort of a comedian and writer but mostly a filmmaker. He films stuff all around New York City and that footage then … uh … hmm …
John Wilson is right, this show is really hard to describe. Wikipedia, a little help?
John Wilson attempts to give advice while dealing with his own personal issues. The 25-minute episodes, framed as tutorials and filmed mainly on the streets of New York City, cover topics from small talk to scaffolding. While each episode initially focuses on its title topic, in the course of his investigation, Wilson meets people and strikes up conversations that lead in unpredictable directions.
Okay, yeah. And it’s funny! I should add that. So tell us about these unpredictable directions, The Ringer.
He wants to know how to make better small talk; he soon finds himself on a beach in Cancún talking about loss and escapism with a wayward MTV Spring Break attendee. He wants to learn how to improve his memory; before long, he’s attending a Mandela effect convention in Idaho contemplating the very nature of reality. An episode about splitting the bill becomes a referendum on fairness and a glimpse into the world of amateur refereeing. One about how to stop his cat from destroying his furniture becomes a meditation on control and materialism.
Wilson’s narration is not what you ever hear with narration. His reedy voice stammers and stumbles. He gets distracted. But what he has to say is often profound and heartbreaking.
Watch all six episodes, they’re short. Most take place in pre-covid New York as you see the most in-your-face hyper-social city in America bustling about, being weird and funny and dangerous and sad and very close together. The season finale (it’s been renewed) happens as covid quickly descends and puts Wilson’s elderly landlady at risk. It’s a hell of an episode and I can’t stop thinking about it.
Okay. That’s all. Merry Christmas. Exciting news soon about a new podcast.