Monday Magazine - At The Mic
The whole world is going crazy folks.
I don’t know if it’s the time of year, or the odd and unwelcome cold weather, but right now it seems like the whole world isn’t playing with a full deck.
I wanted to say that it’s going to hell in a hand basket, but I will be honest and say I have no idea what a hand basket is.
For some reason, at this time of year, we do things that we would never even think of doing when the weather is hot. How do you think this conversation would go in August: “Hey hun, do you want to get in the car and slowly drive by strangers’ houses?” People would call the cops on you. But in the winter they go so far as to print a map in the paper to tell you the best neighbourhoods to do that in.
Why is winter so different than other seasons? If I asked you in May if you wanted to sit on the side of a road downtown with me and watch trucks with lights drive by, you would look at me like I was high. But in December, when it’s well below freezing, it’s perfectly normal.
There are well over a billion people who celebrate the idea of a man breaking into our house via the fireplace, only because he might have presents to give us from his sack. I don’t know about you, but when somebody knocks on my front door when I’m not expecting it, I treat it like a home invasion. “Oh my god! Who do you think it is?” “I’ll hit the lights, you hide the children!”
When the winter season arrives it means one of my most hated activities of all time is coming to town. The ballet.
Why people? As a man, I will admit that I am rarely the one my lady chooses to bring with her to the ballet. Maybe because I hate it so much I get a little drunk and spend most of my time giggling at the man pouches, but likely because I just don’t appreciate it. But this time of year brings out the fact that I have no idea why ballet even exists. It is the strangest performance style in the world. “They shall dance and prance with the most ornate and expensive jackets and hair pieces!”
“What about pants sir?”
“... no pants!”
Why? I thought we as a society had decided that tights aren’t pants, but apparently if you are a small wooden soldier it’s okay? You can’t just not wear pants! Could you imagine if I did that? Walked out in a comedy club with my blazer and a nice clean dress shirt tucked into a skin tight pair of leggings with my festive holly and berries on the mantle for all to see? It might add to the comedy but I think people would likely tire of vomiting from disgust and not enjoy the show.
And the Nutcracker is the most convoluted plot in the world! Nobody cares by half-time! (Half-time can’t be the right term, sorry) But because it’s winter people do the dumbest and strangest things and it’s apparently okay and we have to accept it.
Well I’m sick of it. Just do the sugar plum song so I can go home and watch A Very Mr. Bean Christmas and eat bread crumbs out of a turkey’s ass like a normal person.