Anti-Xmas 2016: A Holiday Screw You, An Orwellian Interview

<From 
Ramen Noodle Nation's 

Movers 'N' Shakers (w/LOVE):

Have An Anti-Christmas...

...And An Anti-New Year>

<"Anarchy Recipe">

<i.>

Every time I visit a retail shop around this time of year, it only takes a second for my vision of Hell to register: Christmas music pumped over the speakers, making me eternally thankful that I don't work here. My chief aversion is "O Holy Night," but not for its religious content, honestly. That aversion started at my last day job, where I heard -- over 'n' over, to the point of Chinese water torture -- some crack-brained parody of  someone garbling the song in a shredded wheat-style falsetto. It was funny the first time -- barely -- at noon. By five o'clock, my eyes and ears felt glazed beyond recognition, having heard my clueless co-workers crank it God knows how many more times. Such experiences put the "nausea" back into "ad nauseum."

That said, why do so many of us feel so ambivalent about Christmas, then? I reckon it's the disconnect between the approved sentiments (birth of Christ, comfort and joy, goodwill toward men, blah-blah-blah) and the reality (crass relatives, food pantry visits, rich jerks bragging about their endless foreign junkets). For me, this season carried an especially bitter sting that dropped in mid-November -- when I got an email from my writing outlets, entitled, "Next Seven Weeks." That heading, as I quickly found out, provided ample reason to say "Oh, crap!"

The email duly informed me that the corporate masters were making immediate budget cuts, so I'd have to skip some meetings, and clear any other ideas in advance. That freeze will lift on Monday, in conjunction with that organization's new fiscal year, but the damage has already been done. Thanks to this sudden email stinkbomb dropping, I've lost about half my monthly income. There's nothing like a big "screw you" before Thanksgiving and Christmas to show you how little you matter in the scheme of things.

And I don't know what pisses me off more -- the lack of notice, the havoc wreaked on my household budget (slender as it is), or all the extra (rmainly, transcription) work I'm doing to staunch any further bleeding. So while I'm not out to dampen anybody else's holiday, I'm not getting caught up in all this artificial, enforced holiday cheer, either. When a financial landmine blows up in your face, "Bah, Humbug!" hardly seems like the ravings of Ebenezer Scrooge -- your favorite elderly, friendless, financially endowed killjoy, and mine. Right now, it seems like the only honest, sane response.

<The Damned: "There Ain't No Sanity Clause."
1980 UK SIngle (Chiswick Records>

<ii.>

The story doesn't end there however. Squawker and I gotten a couple breaks to make the last eight weeks somewhat tolerable. A friend sent us $200 here. I made $195 there for helping track our county's vote results last month.  I'm cranking out transcription files almost every night, which will likely be necessary until February 1 rolls around, when my prospects might finally pick up again. (Remember, as a freelancer, you're typically paid next month for everything that you did last month. Hence, that email should have read: "Next 12 Weeks.")  And I've been pounding the pavement, searching for new opportunities.

Anyhow, last week, I spent half an hour interviewing with a transcription firm that works with the insurance industry. My test results looked good, the recruiter said. Only 2 percent of the initial applicant pool even gets an interview, she confided. (But I didn't feel that "space cadet glow," as Roger Waters calls it. Statements like those are part of the recruiter's repertoire, to make you feel: gosh, maybe I'm one of the Fortunate Few!) We had a cordial conversation, or so it seemed, and hung up. I'd hear something by the end of the week.

Word came last Friday: thanks for your time, but...no. I've no idea why, because -- like so many of these situations -- you never hear the rationale (anymore than I did for the budget axe wielded against my paycheck). All I got was a vaguely worded puff letter whose verbiage would have done George Orwell proud: "Unfortunately we are not able to offer you a position as an independent contractor at this time...Again, thank you for your interest in [NAME WITHHELD] and we wish you much success in your job search."

Huh? Come Again? Say What?

Uh, not to sound like a killjoy, old chaps, but...we have a language disconnect, don't we? An independent contracting position is not a job. They're recognized categories of labor, but they're not created equal, either. Jobs, however poorly they pay nowadays, tend to come with health insurance, 401(k) plans, and paid time off -- items that you rarely (if ever) see in the Gig World. (But if you do, take a photo, and email it to me. I'll keep it next to the flying pig that I just snapped cruising past my window.) Now that I remember it, the recruiter also repeatedly used the J (Job)- word during our interview. Either she really buys her own spiel, or it's another piece of ammo in her ass shining repertoire, I don't know. Take your pick: you're probably right either way.

 In some ways, I'm not upset. Like so many of these outfits, they were demanding a lot. Sign a nondisclosure agreement. Buy a foot pedal and three software programs, just so you could do their piecework. Submit to an annual criminal background check. I'm surprised they didn't ask me to Fedex a urine sample, really!  Of course, they waited until the eleventh hour to drop these little details. But that's not the point, is it?

Crappy as these experiences have been, they've hardened my will to carve a different path that doesn't involve giving away so much power to such outfits. I'm working on a few ideas as we speak; I'll let you know how they end up. The moral here? Whatever business relationships you enter, keep a keen eye, and a clear head. Why feel buddy-buddy with someone who doesn't see (or treat) you as an equal?  So, in that spirit...have a Merry Anti-Christmas, an Anti-New Year...and Bah, Humbug," all the way. -- The Reckoner

Links To Go: Some  Anti-Christmas Faves
(Hurry, Before The Copyright Nazis Yank 'Em Down)

Crass: Merry Crassmass
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CNRVl7LUuI0

Damned: There Ain't No Sanity Clause:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oN8n99BUO-A

Fear: F#ck Christmas Snoopy Video:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TJOFBq7cV5U

Kinks: Father Christmas:(W/Lyrics)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Mgwlxtrfgg

Graham Parker: Christmas Is For Mugs (W/Lyrics):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aexekTNY0_I

UK Subs: Hey Santa:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h8FSXXeDAUI

Merry Anti-Christmas, Everyone (Or Is That Merry Crassmas?)

Fittingly, this entry will hit the virtual presses as soon as the holiday has almost wound down -- wouldn't be an anti-Christmas if it ran on time, right?  Well, our West Coast and Australian/New Zealand readers still have few hours of celebration left, I imagine...like its namesake holiday, one suspects that an anti-Christmas is in the eye of the beholder, which suits The Squawker and myself perfectly.

Today's lead image from Crass's infamous Merry Crassmas EP (1981) sums up our long-running ambivalence about the whole Yule business. As releases go, it's surely among the strangest ever put on vinyl. Each side featured a medley of Crass favorites, played instrumentally on a rinky-dink-sounding organ, after which Santa himself re-entered the proceedings to wish us some holiday cheer -- but not the sort that turkey lovers might have expected!

If you figured out all the relevant song titles, you could win a) bath salts, b) one Exploited single or c) two Exploited singles from the band (if memory serves me correctly). Amazingly, the whole business proved enticing enough to earn a #2 UK indie chart placing at the time.

On one hand, you're constantly reminded to feel cheery and merry, even if those sentiments aren't reflected in your take-home pay, work schedule or personal situation.  If you're among the 7.7 million Americans forced by circumstances to work part-time -- according the latest figures released on December 6, by the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS) -- you might not be blamed for feeling a bit less merry than your brethren.

The airwaves get equally cloying, as the FM arteries clog with the same perennial 45 rpm showcases spun into the ground for the umpteenth time -- "Happy Xmas (War Is Over)," anyone? -- and the boob tube offers the same lack of respite. The Squawker and myself opted for the Sundance Channel's Mel Brooks marathon. As I write this entry, I'm watching "The Producers," and feeling thankful for the option.

Honestly, who wants to eyeball "A Christmas Story," "A Christmas Carol" (in all its infinite guises) or "It's A Wonderful Life" for the millionth-bloody-umpteenth holiday cycle? As good as all those films are, they've run so often that you feel like you're counting sheep...thus, robbing the stories of their emotional impact.

And that's before we get the adverts -- if I have to see those bland yuppie drones blathering one more time about how the Trojan Vibrating Twister has inspired them to bonk like rabbits when they're home from work ("We...kick off our shoes...and go straight to bed...y'know. Same thing."), I think I'm going to reach for my hatchet...or my sick bag...or my gas mask...or some combination of the above.

Even the mundane side of the Yuletide tradition is no less perplexing and confusing. Last night, I had to rush around -- like all the other faces in the crowd -- to grab some last-minute items for the hearth (specifically, our turkey dinner). At 7:40 p.m.-ish (or so), I dashed through the entrance of the last store in town still greedy enough to stay open on Christmas Eve. It was the third one I'd visited.

As the greeter helpfully reminded me, "We're closing in 15 minutes," I slipped and fell on my left knee. I scraped myself off the floor, grabbed a cart and joined the same undignified scramble as my fellow shoppers, amid announcements that broke my concentration every five minutes to tell us exactly when the store was shutting down ("At this time, shoppers, I need you to make your way to the registers...they're going down at eight o'clock...and if you're late...you won't be able to complete your shopping").


Against all odds, I managed to find myself in a never-ending line by 7:55 p.m. -- no mean feat, since the physical layout of most American groceries puts them on a par with walking across the U.S.S. Saratoga, or an equally imposing aircraft carrier -- and took a moment to glance around, trying to read the glances around me, wondering if they felt reminded of family members that they didn't want to see, the office parties they were trying to forget, the accumulated mountain of debt they'd be staring down in the new year.

I wondered if the BLS still considered these folks unemployed, or bumped them down into the categories of discouraged worker (762,000), or marginally attached to the labor force (2.1 million -- who don't figure in the jobless count, because they hadn't looked for work in the four week run-up to the latest survey). Perhaps you're among the roughly 1.3 million Americans losing extended jobless benefits this month, because the political classes want you to party like it's 1893...the only problem is, it's 2013, although I often have a hard time convincing myself of that fact.

Oh, wait a minute -- you don't fancy yourself a vegetarian? Well, if you're among the 2.8 million who'll be booted out of the SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program) next year, you'll get a chance to emulate the meatless anarchistic lifestyle a bit sooner than you think. Or maybe you're among the 140,000 estimated low-income families losing rental assistance vouchers -- a move that Congress's accounting masterminds anticipate will save $2 billion (the same ones, presumably, who low-balled the Iraqi and Afghan conflicts, right?) .

Are you a low-income senior? Don't worry, you haven't been left out of the budget meat cleaver that's whistling everybody's way. Meals on Wheels program cuts will mean roughly four to 18 million less meals for shiftless scroungers like yourself next year, of what seems likely to signal a new round of federal bloodletting. Given all those challenges that many of us face next year, it's tempting to see why "Bah, humbug!" might be a more sane and rational political response than the perennial Pollyanas might have you believe.

In that spirit, visit the link to Merry Crassmas below, find a can of Foster's lager (or two), and crank it up accordingly...oh, and while we're at it...have an anti-Christmas, and an anti-New Year. Or a merry Crassmas, perhaps. Really, it's on us... --The Reckoner

Merry Crassmas EP On Soundclound:
https://soundcloud.com/southern/merry-crassmas

U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics:
Employment Report For November 2013:
http://www.bls.gov/news.release/pdf/empsit.pdf

The Week
How To Stick It The Poor: A Congressional Strategy
http://theweek.com/article/index/253820/how-to-stick-it-to-the-poor-a-congressional-strategy