Holiday Cheer #scrooge #postaday #Christmas

Portrait of Scrooge by Everett Shinn

 

There I was out in the cold (again.)

Do the people who ask for holiday donations for the poor really know what it is like for us?

Do they do it so they can feel better when they sit down to a big fat goose?

I can’t wish them ill really I can’t. I just wish my belly could for one day a year be filled with something that didn’t come out of a can.

I would love to have one gift (even if it was fruitcake) that was wrapped with a red ribbon that I could spend a half hour opening.

I’m not that much different than you. Well yes my face is dirty and I’m missing a tooth (or two), but we all want similar things (warm beds, food for the kids, and a loving smile to say goodnight to.)

That’s not what you look forward to?

Ah yes you are part of the Scrooge Tide. It never changes just the amount that jangles in the pocket. During Ebenezer’s time, it was probably a jumble of coins worth fifty dollars (or 30 pound sterling). Now the sound is the inaudible click of plastic rubbing against plastic. Hmmm what is your credit limit? 2o,000, 100,000 for each card, unlimited…????

My limit is $10. No, that is not per day – that is per month. They all hoped I would just give up, dig the hole myself, and throw myself in it.

Not yet! You Scrooges out there with your long noses and beady eyes – your time will come!! Plastic cards will be worth nothing and you will be unable to rub them together to stay warm.

I’d like to toast you then with some holiday cheer. But we will wait. There is plenty of holly where I live to decorate the halls and I’m more than willing to share my can opener…

 

 

Today’s prompt at WordPress daily writing prompt is Ready Set Go. Take ten minutes and just write – then post. I did take a moment to correct spelling errors but aside from that this is a straight write.

Photograph images are of my copy of A Christmas Carol circa 1938.

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Dickens – ya’ Digg?

What would writers of old do with this new technology?

What would Victor Hugo have thought of Twitter? Would he be following 10,000 by now or would he say “the ____ with those bird people.”

One of my favorite writers is Dickens. What the Dickens would he do with Tumbler other than to mix a drink? His sole use for Digg[ing] would be burying a character.

I’m certain Tolkien studied webs to get  Shelob’s lair just right. Would he take time to study – or surf the Web?

George MacDonald, a pastoral writer in the 18th century, would not understand how to write about clouds today. His clouds traversed the heather hills of Scotland.

What are today’s  writers  to do?

As a writer I ‘m told get yourself out there, become a social media maniac. I used to be a nocturnal writer now I’m a nocturnal tweeter.

Remember when windows were something you opened to let a soft breeze into your room? And a posterous would be a misspelling of something following you.

What about when you told your significant other I need “my space.” “Well honey go right ahead the computer is all yours.”

I guess a Facebook would have been one of those picture books you could stick your face or your kid’s face in.

I was talking to Derek Haines (who always manages to get named in my blogs) ; we were talking about a joint effort – in the 60s you know where that would have gone.

Do you know I am forgetting how to spell. I spell:  “great” – Gr8 ; “by the way” – BTW; ” lost in the fog” – LITF!

I’m a stickler for correct spelling but soon  my goldfish will have better spelling than me.

If I’m going to digress, I might as well share my favorite – Delicious. We used to go to the ice cream parlor get the works with gobs of stuff on top and that was delicious! How can something you can’t taste be delicious? Though some may have learned to transcend space and time and slip into a cyber world with delicious stuff – I haven’t learned that trick.

Can someone  please tell me how I can get out my window into the~ “real time?”

photo:  lanchongzi (license creative commons)

Happily to the slaughter (poet Dave Holloway)

This is the worst time
of the year.
The idol shines so bright
with little left to fear.

Chimes blasting loudly.
Crowds on every knee.
Dickens’s  Ebenezer
upon all who disagree.

The idol’s in the giving,
a ploy learned long ago.
Kill them with Kindness
is the name of this show.

Wise men and prophets
slip quietly out of sight.
The idol sings to all,
Merry Christmas
and Good Night…