It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.

This is going to be belligerant.

When I was a kid, I was part of the Purdue Musical Organization Christmas Show three years in a row (until I got the boot because my voice wasn't good enough and my mom was too Jewish--the latter is a bitter assumption). I remember it being pretty awesome. Confetti cannons, sleighs across stage, jazzy coreography...it was a kitschy Jesuspalooza. I might be wrong, but I vaguely remember there being real life elk or deer or something on stage one year with Santa (I am probably misremembreing that). I have never actually SEEN the show, however, so this year my boyfriend and I decided to attend (tickets were buy one get one free!).

And it was the BIGGEST crock of shit I have EVER seen.

I was expecting something especially extravagant, since it was the 75th anniversary, but I was wrong about that one. I have never seen anything so...white. White. Max (who, despite being Jewish, was slightly more impressed than I) turned to me during one especially schmaltzy rendition of "Silver Bells" and whispered, "If someone ever asked me, 'What do white people like?'...I'd show them this." I mean, it was literally white. There were maybe two or three people who didn't have the skin color of buffed ivory. But let me start from the beginning.

The first thing that came out was some tiny little Jon Benet Ramsey girl in a Christmas sweater looking all aglow and hideously singing some unidentifiable Christmas song. Other people started to come out in pairs, unixplicably all wearing Old Navy Polar fleece and khakis. They pointed in awe around the venue, as if Santa himself was soaring above our tiny little heads. It all crescendoed into a big dance number which consisted of coreography that they picked up from the American Sign Langauge Association basement. If they were singing about happy hearts, they drew a heart in the air, in front of where their hearts were in case we didn't get it.

The setup of the show was really boring. There were no props, no stage set up...just plain risers and some fancy lights. There were no "theme" songs either...I remember there being silly songs about food and kids (including myself) came out running around dressed up like chefs, or Western songs with kids (including myself) dressed up like inappropriate cowgirls. But the PMO groups just filed out in their sparkly uniforms and stood there in rows and sang. It was more of a PMO recital than a Christmas extravaganza.

But, of course, they wouldn't let us forget WHY we celebrate Christmas. Jesus was EVERYWHERE, and not just in the second act, which is traditionally more churchy. Now, I am proudly in the process of becoming a full member of the Catholic Church. I pray every day, am at my church two or three times a week, go to Confession, blah blah blah. I'm more religiously involved than most Christians I know. I love Jesus. But I'm not IN LOVE with Jesus. Man, these people really love Jesus. One particularly scary song kept alluding to the "anger and hate" thrown upon Jesus until the male soloist bellowed out the line "...until He was nailed to a treeeee!"

WHAT?!

Ok, FIRST of all, it was a fucking cross. Maybe you're thinking of Judas, he hanged himself on a tree. But why would you be singing about Judas at Christmas? Come to think of it, why would you be singing about the Cruifixion at Christmas? Wrong fucking holiday, dude.

And SANTA. Good LORD. At the end of the first act, all he did was kind of pop out of a box at the end of the song and declare "I AM SANTA." Which just seemed ludicris, like he was launching down onto some alien planet and its inhabitants stood in awe around his red, bulbous figure.

The whole time I was hoping the Second Coming would happen right there on stage. Cause I don't think Jesus was watching and going, "Hey, they're rejoicing in my presence. Right on." Because you know everyone on stage is thinking about how they look, how much they want it to end so they can get drunk, don't fall on stage, have to remember my coreography...blah blah blah. Either stick to the creepy God-like Santa, or to Jesus.

And get new outfits. Those wide leg black pants and shoulder padded sparky purple flower jackets are pretty 1980s Yonkers real estate agent. Sheesh.