Contradictory Robots of Christmas

I love Christmas time. My belly aches for its cozy and constant dusk, hours of board games, smooth eggnog, and the act of receiving undeserved gifts and trinkets. These holidays contain hectic schedules that demand that we meet and converse with people we never bothered with during the rest of the year. Awkward and repetitious, the gangly practised phrases and anecdotes fill our verbal vault until robotic reflexes takeover when that twice-removed uncle of somesort approaches with a big smile and strong wafting cologne. Of course, my brother decided to up the ante by getting married this Christmas season. Smiling mouths and "OOOhhh Hiiiii!"s were common place during the four days Julia and I were in Vancouver. Relatives from unknown origin were convinced that the weather in Winnipeg was the most pressing matter in my life, besides the fact that I still live in this horrid place. "When are you coming back to the Promised Land?" they would ask. It's been a few years since I intently and laboriously studied the Old Testament at Bible school, but I could have sworn that the Israelites did not wander the Rockies for forty years and enter the Lower Mainland of British Columbia when Moses passed away. But then again, it has been a while. Luckily, my brother, his new bride, and I have a number of mutual friends so it was great to catch up and hear of their adventures in the Rainy City.

The stag was delightful. Since I was a wee lad I wondered how I could celebrate my brother's manlihood. Television informed me that scantily clad women burst from cakes during such an occasion. I never (and still don't) grasped how good could ever come that sort of situation, with obvious reasons. Instead, taking a non-sexual take on the same gag, I inserted small (technically also scantily clad) rodents into the pastries my brother would enjoy during the party. However, when they didn't burst out of their baked enclosures at the right moment (I had obliged the boxes requirements of heating the goodies at the required 400 F for 20 minutes), I just let him eat the failed project without interruption, just nodding during his approval of the "cherry fillings." But the gokarting, dressing him in a Lance Armstrong-type outfit, carting him around Yaletown forcing him to ask strangers hilarious questions (with his friend Gord, close at hand of course), and filling our guts with steak, macaroni and blue cheese, and breaded manatee and chips all went without fail. We all had a good time, and I think he did too.

Alas, the gifts to the bridal party, of which I was a part, were given out and it was revealed that I had a substantial giftcard for Blessings: The Christian Marketplace. Unfortunately, it will be a while before I can put the credit to good use as finding good music at Blessings is as difficult as passing a fist-sized kidney stone. I politely asked an employee the other day if they had MuteMath's new album and after an unsuccessful search on her computer she gave me a look that matched the one my brother received when he queried about the wait-time at the $200/per plate Bluewater restaurant decked out in his yellow and black flesh-squeezing spandex stag-wear. Apparently, Gaithers and Amy Grant is the only "Christian" music at such an establishment like Blessings. I appreciate the giftcard wholeheartedly, but Blessings makes me insane with rage whenever I enter its walls. The "Left Behind: The Game", which promotes the act of killing as long as it is followed by pressing the "pray" button, is for sale and displayed on the front shelves. So called "heathen" bands like Thrice, MuteMath, and Sufjan Stevens are lost to the mindless trappings of other musicians feasting on the numb and soft ears of those hypnotized by CHVN (Winnipeg's Christian radio station). I will have to look into ordering albums through them to find music that won't make my ears ooze candy canes and lollipops. Christian lollipops.

PS: watch this

PPS: does anyone have any suggestions for GOOD music found at Blessings?