So This is Christmas, What Have You Sung?

Tonight while we are all nestled and snug in our beds we might as well take a brief look at some of the wonderful Christmas music that has been around for ages. Tonight, let us look at the beautiful caroling song “Here We Come A-Wassailing”. I have also seen this song referred to as “The Wassail Song”. I don’t like that title though. I like to have the title be the first line of the song. That way, I know how to start the song if I know the title or I can remember the title if I can sing the first line of the song. It just makes things easier. I like easier things.

The first verse of this old favorite of caroling songs is:

Here we come a-wassailing
Among the leaves so green,
Here we come a wand'ring,
So fair to be seen.

The first line is a proclamation of sorts. “Here we come!” The singers of this song want people to know they are on their way. And what are these people doing as they make their way toward you? They are “a-wassailing!” I always wondered what it meant to be “a-wassailing”. Well, this Christmas I looked it up. I found out that “wassail” is a verb. It means to indulge in wassail, or carouse. That wasn’t so helpful until I looked up “carouse”. It means, “a drunken revel.” The alternate definition of “wassail” is to sing carols from house to house at Christmas. I don’t see how that applies in this case. People, who were wandering around after they had too much to drink apparently originally, sang this song. My guess is that this song started out as a polite warning which wandering bands of intoxicated people would sing so that other people would know to steer clear if they so desired. What I don’t know is why Christians would adopt such a song as a staple when celebrating the birth of their Lord and Savior.

The second line of the song is odder yet, “Among the leaves so green.” Everyone knows the leaves are not green at Christmas time. There aren’t really any leaves around at all. The only green would be pine needles. Now the song starts to come together. The first two lines are essentially saying, “We’re here. We’re drunk. Now we will prove it by saying something stupid.”

Lines three and four indicate that these intoxicated folks are aware that they are merely wandering around and that they think quite highly of themselves. Vanity is one of the seven deadly sins. Once again I am troubled by the fact that this song has become synonymous with the birth of Christ.

The chorus:

Love and joy come to you,
And to you a wassail too,
And God bless you
And send you a happy new year,
And God send you a happy new year.

The chorus grants the listener a great many things, not the least of which is a wassail, which is a big keg of beer. Along with God’s blessings, we should also receive happiness, love, joy and beer. Just when I thought the Christmas Holiday lacked a good drinking song, one presents itself. Let’s all drink a pint for Jesus.

The next verse is a bit disturbing.

We are not daily beggars
Who beg from door to door,
But we are neighbour's children
Whom you have seen before.

It’s Christmas. You meet a group of wandering drunken people. They are singing. Part of their song informs you these people are not beggars. It seems to me that Christmas time is when you wouldn’t care if you met some beggars. Christmas is when many people are most free with their giving. Nonetheless, it is important that this group inform you that they are in fact your neighbors intoxicated children. It paints a lovely picture doesn’t it?

Here is another delightful verse:

We have a little purse
Made of ratching leather skin;
We want some of your small change
To line it well within.

People are sitting in their homes. They hear a ruckus outside. They think it is possibly the local beggars who would like something to eat. They open the door. Bam! They are attacked by a drunken band of singers who tell you they are your neighbor’s children. Then they ask you for money. Christmas is about unrestrained consumerism, not excessive imbibing. Who do these people think they are?

I would have to buy an unabridged dictionary to know what “ratching” means. I don’t think it’s important for the continuity of the song.

The final verse:

God bless the Master of this house,
Likewise the Mistress too;
And all the little children
That round the table go.

Now these intoxicated kids, who are trying to panhandle for some beer money, decide that since no one is forking over the dough they are going to break up the family by accusing a man of having a mistress. Also the phrase about “all the little children” is a bit of an allusion to one or more possible illegitimate children, perhaps with the aforementioned mistress. The man of the house likely then would pull out some sort of a weapon and fight back.

This is not a Christmas song so much as it is a “How To” manual for starting a bar brawl. My vote is, take this out of the Christmas repertoire. It’s too controversial!

Chicken Poop for the Cat Lover’s Soul

I was scooping out the litter box today. Actually I was scooping out the litter boxes today. We have three cats and three litter boxes. It seemed equitable at the time. For a time we had three boxes and only two cats. That just wouldn’t do. One of the litter boxes was unloved (so to speak). I left town for a couple of days and rather than throw out a perfectly good litter box, my wife procured a new cat. Problem solved on her end.

Since my wife accepted a promotion to “mother to be” I have been doing the scooping of the litter boxes. It gives me a lot of time to think. I have to think about something other than what I am doing… But I can’t. So I think about what I am doing. I have come up with an experiment that I intend to try soon.

Here is what I intend to do:
A: buy a bag of cat food
B: empty contents into another container
C: label container “CAT FOOD”
D: feed cats normally
E: scoop out litter boxes carefully placing cat feces in the food bag
F: place label on food bag “POO”
F: when food bag labeled “POO” is full before food container labeled “CAT FOOD” is empty scream loudly, “I knew it!”
G: throw food bag labeled “POO” in trash can

My hypothesis is that the mass of feces generated by the cats is greater than the food consumed for a given period of time. If true, this would shed some light on why Schrödinger used a cat in his experiments. I will post my results after performing the experiment.

Another oddity with our cats occurred today while I was scooping. I finished scooping out one litter box (here after referred to as Box A) and began scooping out another litter box. I will call this one Box B. While I was scooping out Box B, one of our cats walked into and began to use Box A. Our relationship is currently such that neither of us finds this uncomfortable. Actually, I do find it a bit uncomfortable. Usually I try to look away.

I scoop out the last litter box (Box C), and notice that the cat is now curious about Box B. Finally, the cat steps into Box B and rather than using it for its intended purpose he begins to just dig around. After digging in a few places the cat leaves. I began to wonder if he had buried one of his toys in there for safe keeping. He should know better than that. In his short life, one of the few things he has gotten good at is making deposits in the litter box. So he knows what goes in there doesn’t stick around. I’ll probably never know what his thoughts were.

Here is a cat experiment, that kids who do not have the means or parental approval to do Schrödinger’s cat experiment, can do at home. You will need the following:
Bread
Butter
Toaster
Cat
Stapler

First toast some bread (click here for some interesting reading about toasters). Put butter on the toasted bread. If you are hungry eat the toast. Continue this process until you are no longer hungry. Then take the toast and staple it, butter side up, to the back of a cat. Toss the breaded cat at least three feet into the air and see which side the breaded cat lands on. Biology class has taught us that cats will always land on their feet, if dropped from higher than three feet off the ground. Childhood has taught us that toast will always land butter side down. Which force of nature will win out? Post your results in the comments section.

“No Thanks, I’m Diving” (Dumpster Diving)

I have often heard that, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” I think it’s true for women too. I would like to have such nice stuff that even the stuff I throw away would be deemed to have great value. Alas, with the exception of some rare moments of hubris in my life where I threw away perfectly good stuff, when I toss something out it is junk.

If you don’t care to humor me with a brief tangent go ahead and skip to the next paragraph. Many people are aware that college is the place where furniture goes to die. I am not sure anyone knows this better than my friend Jon. He was so disturbed by the wanton destruction of his furniture that he finally just bought inflatable furniture his senior year.

If you have just skipped to this paragraph you should probably skip to the next one too. My experience was a little more positive than Jon’s. Staying on campus for summer break gave me the pick of what I came to call the “campus mall.” For most people college is not four uninterrupted years of school. There are distinct breaks, often in May, where people must either haul all their stuff away or leave it behind. This allowed me to trade up in my furniture selection. I was able to throw out a couch that no one in their right mind would pay a nickel for, and pick up one that could have easily brought me $15 on the open market in September. I spent the whole summer living in a dorm room with exactly 5 square feet of walking space, due to all of the furniture packed in it. Then in the fall I would share these bountiful furniture finds with my friends and we would live like kings (except for the microwave, which was a bad move). In the end though I had to part with some of my treasures when I graduated and moved out for good. Many a person was impressed with how much I could fit in my Dodge Shadow, but there were physical limits that even I could not overcome.

In summary, no one likes Millhouse.

Actually I can’t summarize because I haven’t written anything worth summarizing. So, I will continue with my comments about my trash being trashy. I will start with a “for instance.” For instance, we are getting new carpet in our house, four rooms the hallway and the stairs. This means that we have to find some place to put the old carpet. Since I live half a block from the court house and the police station I can’t just throw it outside and burn it. Instead I called up the city sanitation department and rented a dumpster. Compared to my trash can, this thing is huge. Yet the dumpster fills up rather quickly with carpet, and not just any cool or even mediocre carpet, but some of the rattiest orange shag this side of the Cedar River, between 5th and 6th Street, in the 100 block. So naturally I assume no one would take my old carpet because it’s JUNK.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind if people want to take my carpet out of the dumpster. That just leaves me more room to deposit more trash. Naturally I am not surprised that no one has come to take my old carpet. I am a bit upset that one of my neighbors, (who will remain nameless (and not just because I don’t know who they are)) decided to throw their trash in my dumpster. Who ever it was did such a poor job of putting their stuff in the dumpster that they couldn’t even close the lid properly. Had they been a bit more patient they could have wedged their trash (which incidentally is better looking than mine) into the remaining space and I may have never noticed. Which of my neighbors could have such brazen disregard for the autonomy of the dumpster?! Who can legitimately claim they understand the previous question?!

Due to the previous day’s fresh snow fall, I didn’t have to be Davie Crockett to track the foot prints of anyone who had approached the dumpster. There were several tracks leading to and from the dumpster that went directly to my back door! Those were most likely mine. There were also tracks leading from the dumpster across the alley and around my neighbor’s garage leading to… Well, I don’t know where, because I respect the property rights of others and didn’t follow them. It was obvious where the tracks went though. So I was left to believe that one of my neighbors is so unconcerned about this offence that they are willing to practically hang out a sign about how they loved to use my dumpster. Or it was someone who was crafty enough to walk through that particular neighbor’s back yard in order to throw me off the trail. Who could be so meticulous with their trash?

Did Christmas come early at our house this year, or am I being used. Only time will tell.

Chicken Poop for the Soul

I have nothing insightful or humorous to offer today, but my fan expects a post at least once every eight weeks. Who am I to disregard the desires of my fan?

I was silently bemoaning my shortcomings today. Bemoaning is probably the wrong word. Who am I kidding? Bemoaning is the wrong word. Contemplating is the right word. So, I was contemplating my shortcomings. Silently. It turns out that this sort of thing takes a while. It’s not the quality of contemplation, but rather the quantity of contemplation that causes it to be a lengthy process.

I realize this is more of a January thing. For some reason I am hitting the New Year's reflection early this time. As I stated previously, this doesn’t improve the quality of my self-evaluation. Therefore, being proactive is not helpful. Any blogger who writes otherwise is trying to sell you something.

Right now you may be thinking, “Would you at least start moving in the general direction of your point, or failing that, any point!” To you I say, “I didn’t expect anyone to read this far.”

The conclusion I came to… Perhaps that’s a bit strong. The word “conclusion” implies a lot more than the evidence can back up. It is more appropriate to say that something occurred to me. My shortcomings can’t be solved on a two-hour Christmas Special. A miniseries might not even do it. It’s hard to say really, I’ll contemplate that tomorrow. My point is relevant regardless of how that contemplation turns out though.

I am the sum of a few strands of genetic code and roughly three decades of environmental stimulus. After smoothing out the rough edges for that long the only problems I have left are deeply rooted character flaws. That is not to say that there isn't a great deal to work on. 'Cause there is. For what is left, neither the problems nor the resolutions would be heartwarming enough for a good Christmas Special. So, like Charlie Brown, my half hour special ends much like it began. No resolution, just a confrontation with a number of thought provoking issues and a solemn prayer that a Christmas Miracle will greet this weary world.