[stylist] Oh Christmas Tree/Re: Holiday exercise, part 1: Schmanta Claus

[Brenda]

I really enjoyed this song rewrite until it got to the flames.  I 
watched a movie as a child about a christmastree fire that burned the 
entire house and recently experienced my own kitchen fire which put me 
in a hotel for over a week.  I like your ideas though and love rewrites 
of songs.
Brenda.



On 12/9/2011 11:08 AM, Brad Dunsé wrote:
> What a cool, funny  parody on the Christmas Tree song. I loved that.
>
> Brad
>
>
> On 12/9/2011  09:34 AM Jacobson, Shawn D said...
>> Chris
>>
>> Loved it.  I can't think of anything to change.  I'm not sure that 
>> Santa came from Pagan rituals.  I thought Santa derived from Saint 
>> Nicholas who was a 5th century saint in what is now Turkey.  However, 
>> that is of no consequence to the story.
>>
>> Right now I'm reading David Sedaris' "Holidays on Ice" which has a 
>> piece about working as an elf at Macy's.  It covers some of the same 
>> ground.  You might find that interesting.
>>
>> I've kind of been drawing a blank thus far.  So here's something 
>> small, a parody of "Oh Christmas Tree" that you might enjoy.
>>
>> Oh Artificial Christmas Tree
>>
>> Oh artificial Christmas tree
>> Your leaves are made of plastic.
>> Oh artificial Christmas tree
>> You drive the purist spastic.
>> You come in green like trees we know
>> Or white with artificial snow.
>> Oh artificial Christmas tree
>> Your leaves are made of plastic.
>>
>> Oh artificial Christmas tree
>> Assembly required.
>> Oh artificial Christmas tree
>> Jury-rigged and haywired
>> I screwed the duhicky in wrong
>> And now the branches won't stay on.
>> Oh artificial Christmas tree
>> Assembly required.
>>
>> Oh artificial Christmas tree
>> The fire marshal's livid.
>> Oh artificial Christmas tree
>> You toxic flames are vivid.
>> Our house looks like a flaming Hell
>> Guess we'll be found at a hotel.
>> Oh artificial Christmas tree
>> The fire marshal's livid.
>>
>> Shawn
>>
>> -----Original Message-----
>> From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] 
>> On Behalf Of Chris Kuell
>> Sent: Friday, December 09, 2011 9:54 AM
>> To: Writer's Division Mailing List
>> Subject: [stylist] Holiday exercise, part 1: Schmanta Claus
>>
>> Here's my first submission for the exercise--1400 words. I'm planning on
>> another, maybe 2, depending on how satisfied I am with the work. All
>> comments, suggestions, fan and hate mail are welcomed.
>>
>>
>>
>> Schmanta Claus
>>
>> By Chris Kuell
>>
>>
>> Irving Nusinowitz shoveled another spoonful of lukewarm oatmeal down his
>> throat. The taste was bland, a dull beige, perfectly mimicking his mood.
>>
>> His wife, Helen, was jabbering about the fur coat Sylvia Goldbass was
>> wearing at Temple Saturday night. Something about her nephew Maury 
>> knows a
>> guy in the city and got her such a deal. She turned and scowled at him.
>> ""Irving, why the sour puss?"
>>
>> Without responding, he looked at her. Thirty-four years of marriage 
>> allowed
>> Helen to read his thoughts through that look.
>> "Listen, Irv, it's only for a short time. You've been outta work for
>> nine-months now, and we really need the money. Winter is here, and we 
>> need
>> oil to heat this place. The kids and our seven grandchildren are 
>> coming for
>> Hanukah, and I don't want them worrying about us."
>>
>> Irving dipped his head and forced another spoonful of mush into his 
>> mouth.
>> Helen took the kitchen chair next to him and spoke softly. "I prayed 
>> for God
>> to help us find money to make it through the holidays. He works in
>> mysterious ways, Irving. Swallow your pride and do a good job. It's 
>> only for
>> a month. "
>>
>> Irving pushed his chair away from the table and stood to go. Sylvia 
>> used a
>> napkin to remove a glob of oatmeal from his thick, white beard before
>> hugging him good-bye and handing him a sack lunch. She offered him a few
>> more words of encouragement as he buttoned up his overcoat and left the
>> house for whatever the day wood bring.
>>
>> Parked a half-hour later at the Mall, he took a long swig out of the 
>> pint he
>> kept in the glove box. Unemployment had not been easy for the 
>> 58-year-old
>> ex-accountant. He grabbed his Dunkin Donuts coffee and his canvas bag 
>> and
>> locked up.
>>
>> Inside the security office at the Mall was a nice changing room and a 
>> locker
>> where he could store his clothes. Irving was afraid Mr. Connor, the 
>> man who
>> had hired him, might smell the gin on his breath, but he quickly 
>> reassured
>> himself that the coffee would cover it up and he changed. The silly 
>> pants
>> were elastic at the waist at least, so they could close around his 
>> 62-inch
>> girth. The red jacket was also tight, and the cheap nylon fabric was
>> probably going to give him hives. He buckled the wide, black belt, 
>> which was
>> vinyl instead of leather, and muttered, "And you Goyem are always 
>> calling us
>> frugal."
>>
>> The final accessory was the red felt stocking cap, which fit 
>> perfectly on
>> Irving's snowy head.
>>
>> Mr. Connors introduced him to Dwayne Thomas, a short black guy 
>> dressed up in
>> a green elf costume that matched his own in ridiculousness. Elf Dwayne
>> smelled like he hadn't had a shower lately, and Mr. Connors was not the
>> least bit happy when the elf lit up a Marlboro.
>>
>> While they walked, Mr. Connors went through his schpeal about proper
>> behavior, never telling the kids much of anything, keep it all open 
>> ended,
>> and push them into pressuring their parents for a photograph.
>>
>> As Irving took his seat in the large wooden chair in the center of 
>> the Mall,
>> surrounded by Christmas songs, artificial trees and snow and enough 
>> blinking
>> lights to illuminate a major US city, he thought back to his bar 
>> mitzvah.
>> The day he fully embraced his Jewishness and became a man. How far he 
>> had
>> come, and how low he had sunk, to be sitting here representing a
>> capitalistic fantasy to all the bratty little gentile children.
>>
>> Irving played Santa to 43 children before lunch break. You can take 
>> the man
>> out of the accounting office, but. 29 were boys; 14 girls. Three kids 
>> couldn't
>> work up the courage to get on his lap, and one cried so much his 
>> mother had
>> to come and take him away after a grotesque pleading session that made
>> Irving want to throw both the kid and his mother into one of the fake 
>> snow
>> banks.
>>
>>  For lunch, Irving went back out to his car and polished off the gin 
>> with
>> his tuna fish sandwich. He ran into Dwayne the Elf as he was walking 
>> in, and
>> they both had a cigarette before heading back for Act II.
>>
>> The line of nervous children and cookie-cutter parents depressed 
>> Irving as
>> he took his throne. The lies about being good, the greed of the 
>> brainwashed
>> little consumers and the idle promises about bringing lots of toys 
>> carried
>> on through the afternoon.
>>
>> Irving's lower back was killing him, his bladder was about to burst 
>> and he
>> nearly launched a fat little girl onto the white picket fence when she
>> pulled hard on his beard, asking, "Is this fake?"
>>
>> He stood, massaging his sore chin and watched as Dwayne escorted a 
>> lone boy
>> over to meet Santa. Usually the kids had a cheery, encouraging parent
>> observing from outside the picket fence, but this kid was all by 
>> himself.
>> Irving thought he saw a slight trail of smoke escaping from Dwayne's 
>> cupped
>> hand as the kid stood before him.
>> "Hello, Son. Is your Mommy or Daddy with you today?"
>>
>> The kid said, "My Mom's shopping at Filene's. I've got a cell phone 
>> to call
>> her if you try to feel me up or anything like that, so don't even think
>> about it."
>>
>> Taken aback, Irving sat down and stared at the kid. He was maybe
>> eight-years-old, had sandy brown hair and reminded him a little of 
>> his own
>> grandson Samuel.
>> "Would you like to sit on Santa's lap, or is that a little too close for
>> you?"
>>
>> "I'll just stand here, if that's OK." He said. "I know you're not Santa
>> anyways."
>>
>> "What kind of attitude is that? Don't you want Santa to bring you 
>> lots of
>> gifts under your tree come Christmas?"
>>
>> The kid looked at Irv with sad brown eyes." There won't be any tree this
>> Christmas."
>>
>> "What? No tree? Why not?" Irving asked.
>>
>> "My Mom and Dad got divorced. My Dad is Jewish, and so is his new
>> girlfriend. I'm going to spend Christmas break with him in stupid 
>> Denver."
>>
>> "Well, then, you will be celebrating Hanukah, the Jewish celebration of
>> Lights,"" Irving said to the boy.
>>
>> "Hanukah is stupid. All my friends are home having Christmas. I know 
>> Santa
>> isn't real, but I'm going to miss out on all the fun stuff." The kid 
>> looked
>> down and nudged the toe of one boot in the fake snow.
>>
>> "Santa, Schmanta, that's what I say," Irving told the boy. "Listen, 
>> kid. I'm
>> going to let you in on a little secret. " Irving lowered his voice and
>> motioned for the boy to come closer. The kid took a step closer and 
>> pulled
>> the cell phone out of his pocket, just to let Santa know he was serious.
>> "All of your friends, with their presents and reindeer, are missing 
>> the big
>> picture. Santa isn't about Christmas at all.  The Christians stole 
>> him and a
>> lot of other stuff from pagan rituals."
>>
>> "What's a pagan ritual?" the kid asked.
>>
>> "That's not important. What is important is to know that Christmas isn't
>> about gifts and trees. It's about God, and God's gifts to the world. God
>> gave the Christians Jesus, to try to teach them what is important in 
>> life,
>> love and compassion. The Jews, we don't need Jesus, because we had Moses
>> thousands of years before Jesus came along. God gave Moses the gift 
>> of the
>> commandments, which he shared with us. God gave us these things 
>> because he
>> loves us, all of us. Doesn't matter if you are Jewish, Christian or 
>> one of
>> those Hari Krishna's that parade around in their bathrobes at the 
>> airport."
>>
>> The kid contemplated this while Irving continued.
>> "Kid, you've got the best of both worlds. You get to experience the rich
>> traditions of your Jewish heritage, and visit Denver where I hear the 
>> skiing
>> is fabulous this year."
>> This got a smile out of the youngster.
>> "Before you go, I'll bet your Mom will load you down with lots of 
>> crap you
>> don't need. Just like an early Christmas. In fact, I bet she's out 
>> buying
>> you all kinds of fun junk that will turn your brain into mush right 
>> now."
>> A deeper smile rose on the kid's face, and Santa seemed to catch it.
>>
>> "Santa," Dwayne the Elf called, a wisp of blue smoke escaping from his
>> mouth. "We need to move along."
>>
>> The boy took two steps forward and hugged Irving. He stepped back and 
>> said,
>> "Bye, Santa."
>>
>> Irving smiled wide and answered, "Shalom, my friend."
>>
>>
>>
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>
>
> Brad Dunsé
>
> "Instead of waiting out the storm, learn to dance in the rain." --Unknown
>
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