The Misanthropic Heathens & the Quest for Christmas Magic

The Misanthropic Heathens & the Quest for Christmas Magic

“Christmas is doing a little something extra for someone.”  - Charles M. Schulz“What kind of Christmas present would Jesus ask Santa for?” - Salman Rushdie, Fury*When I was a tiny, brand-new person, I knew what it felt like to be overwhelmed by music, cookies & twinkling lights. I knew the absolute joy that can only come from a tiny, brand-new person's sense of wonder when presented with stories & images of magical elves, animals & places.I knew Christmas magic. It was nothing less than magic.Like any kid, I got excited about presents. But, wasn't the anticipation & surprise always more fun than the actual object wrapped up inside all of that pretty paper?I consider myself lucky that for the first few years of my life, I had grandparents who I always spent the holiday with & that they got more excited about Christmas than anyone I've ever met since. There was always an enormous tree, standing upon a big...
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Misanthropic Expat Syndrome

Misanthropic Expat Syndrome

"Americans should never come to Europe,' she said, and tried to laugh and began to cry, 'it means they never can be happy again. What's the good of an American who isn't happy?" — James Baldwin, Giovanni's Room * "I think that something's happened to me," I said.  Olivier looked over at me & creased his eyebrows. "Like what?  Are you sick?  Did you eat too much fiber again?" "No... I'm not feeling shitsy.  It's more permanent than that, I think... & it seems to be getting worse.  I think I must be developing some sort of misanthropic expat syndrome." "I think you've had that for a while." "It's getting worse," I said. "Yeah. I've noticed.  It's probably not so bad," he said. "Eating too much fiber feels worse, I bet." He's right.  That does feel pretty bad.  Unfortunately, my misanthropic expat syndrome seems to be permanent & intensifying. Something happens after a few years of living outside...
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Misanthropy at the Movies

At the restaurant inside the movie theater, Olivier & I sat down at the table.  He started eating.  I was struggling with the impenetrable plastic package holding my napkin & brittle plastic fork."Man... did you get a load of those fucking people that were in line in front of us?"Olivier responded by nodding his head.  His mouth was full of sandwich.  He swallowed.  "Yeah, they were pissing me off, too," he said.  Sip of soda.  Swallow.  "The wife was smashing her elbow into my ribs while she bitched about napkins to the person working behind the counter."My fork was now free.  I pulled my sandwich apart & began flicking bits of tomato off of it.  "Seriously... you'd think that her husband could have corralled their kids while she did her bitching."  Tomato.  Flick.  "I thought that they were going to start climbing my legs as if I were a mighty oak.  I love how people think that any other adult...
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