Kia ora Comrades, Merry Christmas to you and your whanau.
Good will and peace to all.
Remember- It’s not Christmas until you have a huge argument defending Fairytale of New York, Love Actually and eating anything that casts a shadow.
Today Joseph and Mary would have to pass through 15 checkpoints to get from Nazareth to Bethlehem, but seeing as most of Gaza has been flattened by a war crime level response by Israel, plus the ethnic cleansing, you could make it a round trip within 30 minutes now.
The realistic nativity scene looks like this…
…how soul disturbingly sad.
Radio 1 to air censored version of Pogues’ Fairytale of New York
Offensive words in the Christmas song to be removed or altered for Radio 1, but remain unchanged on Radio 2
For many Christmas is a Season of Good Will, family, friends, whanau. A time to sit in each others company and celebrate the shared harvest of the year. It is joyful, it is welcoming, it is us at our best as a species.
For some however, it is a season of estrangement, a bitter cold loneliness whose each passing hour gnaws relentlessly into bone marrow that never heals. A 24 hour carnival of wounds made mockingly humiliating by the the cheer of the vast majority.
For those some, Christmas is a struggle of bruises with gift wrapped injury. For them, the bitter sweet working class lament ‘Fairytale of New York‘ sums up all the wasted hope of Christmas and allows pain to sit at the table in an exhausted detente with our more damaged angels.
Micro aggression policing Millennials decry this song for its hate speech language of ‘Slut’ and ‘Faggot’ and demand with all the nuance of Mao’s cultural revolution that this relic of pre-woke be burned at the virtual signalling stake.
When those some sing the insults with such ferocious gusto, it’s not aimed at homosexuals or women, those are insults being screamed at themselves once the distance between what was hoped and what was delivered is measured from heaven to the gutter.
Those some will not stop singing this pain, because this pain is the only guest at the table.
Finally, a NZ poem for Christmas.
A Christmas Wish
‘Not mistletoe and holly
To ward off melancholy
Carols in the chapel
Plum pudding and crabapple.
But to camp for a week
By a mountain creek
With fresh taken trout
And tinned pears to eat
With tea boiled in a billy
And the morepork in the gully.’
James K Baxter
A sardonic and depressed festival of late stage capitalism consumerism on a burning planet to you all!
A toast to your good health and peace on earth and good will to all.
Season’s Greetings Comrades!
TDB 2024
Increasingly having independent opinion in a mainstream media environment which mostly echo one another has become more important than ever, so if you value having an independent voice – please donate here.
