Season’s greetings, happy holidays, or whatever the Hell you people call Winter Solstice nowadays. Regardless, my beauties, it’s a scrumptious time of year. I adore the trees, the lights, the hustle and bustle, and, above everything, the presents. Presents are what the holiday season is all about, my dears, so spend, spend, spend! It's also the remedy for your ailing economy, and thus an act of patriotism.
I was looking forward to lavishing you with praise in my first official report. I regret to inform you that I’ve been somewhat disappointed. As fabulous as I regard all of my precious Burnside pumpkins, you have a dreadful tendency to be . . . how shall I put it? Lackluster. Uninteresting. Anti-fabulous. Nonstimulating. Beige. Downright boring, darlings. Punch up things a bit, won’t you? Think shorter articles, more pop culture, more controversy, more rebukes of those who think differently, and more pictures of Paris Hilton.
Please receive this as only a light reprimand, dears. The past two weeks have not been without their high points. Every two weeks I will award a pair of prizes. “The Big B” Award will go to the one who has most endeared him or herself to me. “The Little B” is the first runner-up (the first loser, in other words, but we needn’t be so abrupt). On with the show!
This week’s Little B goes to Adam Newton for his article about Amy Grant. I adore my precious Amy more than you can possibly imagine. All Christian artists should be cute, just like she is. And they should certainly avoid singing lyrics that in any way require use of the brain’s frontal lobe. Vague lyrics about vague affection for a vague object are the very bread and butter of popular music. To be honest, darlings, I really just like her for her looks. That popular Christian artists are almost exclusively beautiful validates so many of my efforts. I mean, take one look at those Pedro the Lion urchins and you’ll understand exactly what I mean. They’ve sold, what? Fifteen albums?
Incidentally, Amy shall remain cute for exactly the next 11 years, when her contract expires. But I’m not really supposed to talk about it without her permission . . .
The Big B award goes to Jordan Green for his article about beer. My darling Jordan, I thought that I had cornered the market on elitism, but you have gainsaid me in this notion. I never dreamed that one could be condescending about beer. Wine and vodka, perhaps, but not Blue Collar Bread. The fact that you extol the virtues of a beer which is undrinkable represents the very pinnacle of exclusivity – something is fabulous only because commoners know not of it, not because it is of any practical value. Congratulations, darling! You’ve invented a whole new form of Christian exclusion! I thought we had exhausted all possibilities in this regard, but I vastly underestimated the tendency of Emergent-style Christians to lapse into typical religious habits. To imagine that a new opportunity would arrive via a plebian alcoholic beverage. Christians are so clever when left to their own devices.
By the time I return, I expect you all to have exhausted your lines of credit in the name of holiday cheer. Until then, my darling beauties, I remain . . .
Your friend until The End,