“You know her.”
“She knows you.”
“She’s trying to eat him.”
“And everybody’s ok with this????”
“DID I MISS SOMETHING?????!!!!!!”
Sorry. Couldn’t help myself. There is something troubling me to no end and I need someone else to ‘splain it to me, but we saw The Lion King this weekend and I simply cannot get Timon out of my head. You know, right? When the grown-up Nala finds the grown-up Simba after she was trying to eat Puumba (in her defense, she’s coming from a desperately depleted homeland where there is a dearth of prancing antelope) and Timon is having a difficult time assimilating the 411.
In deference to my serious digression from the topic that is causing my cerebrum to vibrate with irritation, I feel I must give a shout-out to the stage production of The Lion King. Holy crow. We were treated by our generous benefactor, who shall remain nameless but who is truly a generous soul and without whom we would not have been able to experience the experience of a lifetime, to a front and center viewing of a Broadway sensation. The darling diva I live with and I could find no words as we left the theatre. The only way we could describe the previous two hours was “beyond beyond.” It was simply beyond anything we’ve seen or experienced (note to self: find the thesaurus) thus far. It was truly beyond beyond. The Lion King is near and dear to my heart and I wore out my VHS copy of it long before the diva graced me with her presence. After she arrived, the VHS copy limped along and attempted to remain in service so that she too could fall in love…and here’s the bottom line…our trio’s down to two. The sweet caress of twilight. There’s magic in the air. And with all this romantic atmosphere……….disaster’s in the air. Can you feel…oh sweet lord I think I’ve seen the movie one too many times. I spontaneously break into song in my cranium at any moment, prompted by a stray word hither or yon. What’s a girl to do?
Talk about your earworms.
Good grief. Let me leave this land of warm fuzzies remembering the beyond beyond experience (note to self: MUST find thesaurus) and return to my original premise.
So let me get this straight. Somehow, in some way, Starbucks is leashing an all-out, downright, honest-to-goodness war on the Christians’ Christmas because the ubiquitous red cups trotted out every year at this time are conspicuously devoid of…well…what exactly? This is where I’m a little confused. And the 411 just isn’t adding up in my overstuffed cabeza. (Geez, that makes me sound like I have a melon for a head or something. Bad mental image. But I’m tired and I’m not going back to find another word for head, brain, cranium, cerebrum. I can be own damn thesaurus if necessary I guess. Yay me.)
Back to my confusion. Yes, I am easily confused. I’ll be the first to admit it. But I’m not understanding why the Christians are all miffed. No Christmas trees or reindeer or holly wreaths or Santas on the red cups? (And in all honesty, I’m trying to remember the previous years’ designs and can’t come up with anything specific at the moment.) I can’t square this circle. I can’t make it add up. I’m not equating plain red cups at the holidays (Starbucks tradition, happens every year, just like Daylight Savings Time–don’t EVEN get me started on that one–the World Series, and Black Friday–though hats off to REI for bucking the trend this year)–with a war on Christmas.
Now, if the Starbucks holiday cups to hold the holiday drinks (Peppermint Mocha being the best ever) were say, black? Would the Christians be all up in arms about a war on Christmas then? Is it the color that’s bad? Or is it that there are no reindeer or snowmen on the cups? Cause I think I’m remembering snowmen at one time. Cute ones too. But how do snowmen on a red cup equate with the true Christian meaning of Christmas? Cause I’m going to go out on a limb here and make the assumption that the true Christian meaning of Christmas has something to do with the supposed hallowed birth of a little baby, supposedly born in a manger, supposedly to a woman who may have channeled her inner Bill Clinton and said something along the lines of “I did not have sexual relations with that man.” Lord love a duck but I’m getting lost in my own run-on sentence. I hate it when that happens. It’s just that I am so flipping confused by this brouhaha.
Now then. If the Starbucks holiday cups had at one time had pictures on them of the aforementioned cute little tyke all swaddled in a piece of fabric nestled in the hay with maybe a donkey or a cow thrown in as well, then I guess, maybe, possibly, one might be able to make the argument that Starbucks was abandoning their previous Christian Christmas mission and just going all bland red this year. And that somehow spelled out “w-a-r-o-n-c-h-r-i-s-t-m-a-s.”
My head hurts.
I for one simply can not see the logic in the argument that Starbucks is waging it’s own war on a holiday, based on the fact that their seasonal/holiday cups are plain red.
I’m not seeing it.
And believe me you. I love me some Starbucks. And I love me some Christmas (see earlier post about coming out of the closet). And I really love me some Starbucks Christmas. The darling diva and I get excited each year when they finally open all the boxes and put everything on display. Then we ooh and ahh together at the cute little ornaments and yummy looking treats and whatnot.
Christmas consumerism. That’s what it is. Plain and simple.
I’m thinking that if the Christians want to be all hot and bothered and rant and rave about some imaginary “war on Christmas” then perhaps they should start with the big daddy of them all. Santa himself. And his little sidekick with the red nose.
Cause I don’t know about you, but I’m fairly certain that the dude in the red coat with the big belly that shook like a bowl full of jelly and the proboscis-challenged cervid were NOT hanging out with the manger crowd some 2000 years ago. So if anybody co-opted Christmas, I’m thinking he and his ilk would be it. I’m just sayin’.
Course, we could ask ol’ Ben. He’d probably know the answer. Just like he knows that the Egyptian pyramids were built by Joseph to store grain (not bodies) and the ark (Noah’s boat) was not built by professionals, as opposed to the Titanic. Oh, and the earth is only 6000 years old and evolution is not a thing.
Yup. I think someone should ask Ben Carson if Santa and Rudolph embody the true meaning of a Christian Christmas and by leaving the snowmen and the reindeer off of their holiday cups, then Starbucks is engaging in downright war.
That could potentially be such an interesting answer.
And on that note, I’m off to dreamland.
Blessings be on you and yours.
(And hats off to Starbucks for once again being the scapegoat for the ills of this world. Oy vey.)