This is really more in the nature of a tirade than a shameful confession. In fact, I will denounce with pride, and this is something of an annual ritual (just as beloved -- yes, my phrasing is ironic -- by those who know me as my annual careful explanation that the twelve days of Christmas do not end, but rather start, on Christmas Day, and actually end on Epiphany, the Feast of the Three Kings, which is why it’s also known as Twelfth Night). If you know me you know what’s coming: brace yourself for the Rudolph rant.
I hate, hate, hate and despise Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Let’s review the song, shall we?
1) Reindeer R. is different from the others and therefore openly mocked and ostracized on the playground and everywhere else.
2) Big Daddy Authority Figure Santa realizes he can exploit the freak for his corporate benefit.
3) The formerly hostile reindeer now realize it’s to their benefit to accept the outsider and they pretend nothing ever happened.
4) Most shameful of all: the craven accepts it! Instead of scorning all of them, possibly to stalk off and join some alternative solstice celebration that embraces individuality in a nurturing non-judgmental setting, the pathetic R. is now pleased that he can be exploited by authority and outwardly accepted by hypocrites.
Grow a pair, Rudolph. Die in the tundra. Wait for a Christmas Eve that isn’t foggy and see what happens.
Um, I’m going to my happy place to concentrate on breathing in and out, maybe have some fruitcake to calm down. Alcohol-soaked fruitcake.