They say you should get into the "spirit of giving" but what they really mean is you should have the "spirit of buying." I don't like that. I don't see what any holidays have to do with giving gifts. Certainly, it's different for birthdays. Happy birthday, congratulations on being alive. You really hung in there. I would like to reward you with this gift of "Footloose" on Blu-Ray. And it's also different for a baby shower. Good luck going through hell to pop that brood out into the world. You are really achieving something here because 310 billion people feels kind of lonely, but by the time you have your fifth kid, I think we should be seeing a nice full number, like maybe 650 billion. Let me reward your blind selfishness with this toaster from P.C Richards. I painted it pink in case it's a girl or a gay. And it's one of the pre-recall ones, not the new childproof ones. So, you know, fingers crossed.
Is that wrong? Am I just an Ebeneezer Scrooge? In one way, yes, because I am an insufferable grouch, but in another, more important way, I am not because I don't even have Robber-Barron-caliber wealth to fall back on, like he did - contrary to what the friendly yuletide bastard named 'Ivan' who robbed me last night might have you believe.
And if I was just like Scrooge I certainly would not repent and change my ways just 'cause some jerk-off ghost showed me my gravestone. This is something I don't get about Dickens' heart-warming, corporate-backed tale of redemption, kindness and a triune god. I don't really buy Ebeneezer's character. You are telling me this misanthropic, rheumy-eyed old fig spends his entire life profiting off of cheap labor and lucrative merchant contracts from the King, hoarding his wealth and shunning that good ol' human-love-n'-kindness (thanks, Ivan for showing me the light) and then turns around and throws it all away because a walking sex-sheet showed him that he is going to die alone.
Seriously, Dickens? So let me get this straight. Scrooge goes through life as a callous spendthrift, has no family or friends, treats his workers like Moors and hates the crap out of carolers. But he never once considered that the employees to whom he pays a shilling a month for hard labor have families they can't provide for, or the fact that when he dies there will be no one to mourn him and if he is remembered at all it will be only as "that guy who refused to give me a Christmas bonus and I couldn't buy my daughter a gift so she died of pneumonia the next day." You are telling me the guy just didn't think about that?
Well, to be fair, no that does not seem to be the case. In fact, the three ghosts had to drop in and scare the living shit out of Scrooge before he would even deign to recognize the misery his misery had caused. And keep in mind it took three fucking ghosts! For your average Joe one ghost would pretty much do it. He'd be pissing his knickers and doing anything the disembodied voice in the trees told him to do. But this hard-ass merchant required three ghosts! Seems to me the moral of the story is getting out of hand.
In the end, the Ghost of Christmas to Come teleports Scrooge like 2 weeks into the future to the site of his own grave and says "listen, asshole, if you don't straighten your shit out, no one's going to weep at your funeral, and you'll be buried here in the criminals section with all the robbers, rapists and government employees." And this, finally, scares Scrooge out of his wits. He just marches on back to the present and opens the faucets of illicit funds and ill-gotten gains, changing his entire map of emotions, the stolid, impassive snobbery that defines his very character.
So maybe that is Dickens' message to me. No one loves a hater. You are miserable because you make others miserable, if you make others happy then you will be happy. Spend your paycheck on Best Buy gift cards - they really need the business and your co-workers will appreciate it. Or something to that effect. But I am not convinced. In fact I think that what happens at the end of "Christmas Carol" is a sham.
Scrooge doesn't change his ways out of the goodness of his heart or some supernatural influx of holiday spirit. He does so because he is and has always been a greedy, selfish bastard. I mean, when he sees his pigeon-shit grave he isn't thinking "Man I should have been a good person so I could've maybe lived a happy life before this shit happened," it's more like "Man I better grease some wheels before I die or no one will put flowers on my grave and they'll talk shit about me until the end of the monarchy. Plus, if there are ghosts then there sure as shit has got to be a god, and I know he's going to kick my ass big time." And that's just it - the ghosts didn't show him the right path, just reminded him of what he loves most - himself. He isn't overflowing with holiday spirit, only concerned with what people will think of him when he's pushing up daisies. The ghosts taught him the most heartwarming lesson of all: You gotta cover your ass.
Likewise, we can take it at the value of the story's religious undertones and say that maybe he has come to believe in an afterlife and just really wants to score enough mitsvah-points to have a baller time in heaven. And you don't get an eternity of slut-service for being a Scrooge.
Whatever the real reasons may be, as you can see, the driving factor here is the spirit of selfishness. And now that I myself see that, I must say, I am beginning to really appreciate the holiday spirit now. I thought it was about some bullshit love, caring and brotherhood-type emotional package, but it's not that at all. It's about being a dick your whole life, then 'repenting' at the last possible moment, it's about looking out for numero uno, even if that sometimes involves buying turkeys for people, and it's about god's first commandment: "better late than never." I can barely believe it. I have actually learned something despite myself. And, like Ebeneezer, I have really come full circle and something has changed. Truly, big thanks is due in order of importance: Myself. Dickens. Triune-god.
