Wednesday, December 17, 2008

The Joys of Christmas Lights

Christmas lights are one of those things that I enjoy the result, but hate the process. For the last eight years, my folks have put up red. white, & green Christmas lights. And when I say "my folks," I mean Dad; and I usually get drafted to help.

They look great, but the trees seem to get taller every year, the bulbs develop shorter life spans, the extension cords shrink, and the FAA gets more picky about "interference with aerial navigation."

We still do it, though. It's tradition. This year more than ever - as the all the neighbors seem to have wimped out, and we are the only ones with lights. I've been doing it ever since it was determined that I had no higher chance of electrocuting myself than Dad has, so at least one of us will be able to call for help. It's also how I learned the meaning and usage of all the swear words, so it had educational value as well.

Anyway, when I heard Glenn Beck talking about Christmas lights the other day, I had to share:
The new Christmas light nets? Have you seen that? The Christmas lights net? It's their -- I don't know what they are actually called. It's a new style of outdoor lighting. When I was a kid, you would go outside with your dad and you would manly string up all those big chunky colorful light bulbs that would burn out every three nights and your dad would either break his neck or when you got old enough, he would say, "You go up and change the light bulb; I'll hold the ladder." And I think my dad was secretly hoping, "Maybe this time he will fall off the ladder." And those light bulbs, you know, are probably worth about half the reason that we have an energy crisis. But they were worth it. Then we went to the fancy white lights and then the icicles and everybody had that and then the twinkling lights and the fake snow and the stickers on the windows? I'm sorry, but it's getting a little over the top. Now we have the Christmas light nets where you don't have to wrap the strand around the bush in front of your house. You just go take a net of lights and you -- like a blanket and you just like... and pop it on the -- that's not right. You don't even have to put gloves on, let alone experience the father-and-son tradition of, you know, of Dad screaming obscenities at the top of his lungs while the neighbors consider whether or not to call the police because they have got some maniac out there on the top of a ladder screaming at his son. That's what Christmas is supposed to be. You're supposed to get the big ball of lights, the string of lights that are all tangled up and then your dad starts swearing and you say, "Dad, the reason why is because when you took them off last year, you were swearing so much" and of course they tangle themselves and you don't say anything, because Dad will kill you if you do. That's Christmas!