Those of us who are older, and have a need to confirm the existence of the bathroom around three in the mornings, know these things. We look out our windows at what had been a festively lit up neighborhood earlier in the evening, and we see just the usual dark and soggy-looking almost longest night of the year. Our energy-conscious part time festives are conserving their power for better times, when impressing their neighbors may actually include neighbors who are alive and well and above all awake. (Sometimes 'awake' is an optimistic appraisal...) But my point is, it's dark out there, and not very Christmasy.
Even our resident billionaire, Jimmy Pattison, up there on Snob Hill with a spread like a small village, and his lights trimming that almost-block-long home in red outlines, and that huge and overly-bright Star of Bethlehem on a pole above one end of it, connected to his roof with strings of blue lights, implying he's somehow God's Chosen Capitalist turns off his glorious display at midnight. Three cheers for power conservation. The lights in that star of his are so bright, you can't make out the shape of the star from a distance at all - it's just one huge blinding white light, and since one of his 65 companies is a signs outfit, you'd think he'd be more aware of the effect produced by all that egoism.
If I were Santa Claus, I'd be sure to stop at Jimmy's place, just so the reindeer could relieve themselves in his gutters...
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