Localissimo (Locals Only) Christmas

This time of year I have a strange problem, whereupon one of my primary concerns is that of a large amount of empathy for people such as Bing Crosby. Good old Bing: despite some of his lessor qualities, he was a Real Voice, and as such he had a signature song. He was unfortunate enough to have been saddled with the burden of \”White Christmas\” being the most popular tune of his career. Until he stopped singing, that was the song people always wanted to hear. More than fifty years later, that is the song people most remember him for. And he fucking hated that song; never even liked it the first time around.

Fact of the matter is, Bing Crosby was a dirty old man — kind of a Bad Santa type — with a squeaky clean public image for the bucks. He loathed every minute of his facade and envied his Rat Pack peers. But in order to finance his life, he\’d gussy on up and droll on about chestnuts roasting and Jack Frost nipping, all the while resenting the time spent and waiting for the check. Like many entertainers, Bing Crosby was a monkey-whore for the feel good heart of America. During the feel good times, that\’s the sort of thing I end up thinking about, and the sort of people I feel more comfortable with: those just here for the time and a half, working for the man until they can get some take-out Chinese and hit the deserted bars for some love from the local bartenders.

Hi, we just live here. Thanks for going \’home\’ for the holidays. We, on the other hand, are bloody well home already. Locals only here, motherfuckers. Christmas time in the city.

Shit just tends to happen when it\’s only locals out — it\’s like being in someone\’s living room, except stuck in the public eye. While everyone else has run out of town to be with their families, we townies sit around and let our walls down. A softer side, a little bit of the magic of Saint Nicholas. Just as us locals damn the carpetbaggers and the moonlighters for ruining the city during the non-holidays, I toss another damn toward Washington Irving for ruining the spirit of the holidays and giving us Santa Claus. Here\’s a Bah Humbug from the locals! Oh yeah, and we killed your christ, too; dirty, filthy pagans, the whole stinking lot of us.

Dr Maude and his sprog have gone to visit his family in New York for the holidays, so I\’m apartment sitting while they\’re gone. The apartment is in Forest Hills — formerly a mini-Jewville, though these days it\’s full of retirees who go out of town, diplomatic workers who go out of town, students who go out of town, and a few scattered professionals. I\’ve only seen a handful of people in my building since Friday morning, though I heard the guy down the hall beating his woman just a few minutes ago. Domestic assault rates rise during the holidays — stress, more time spent at home with the family, that sort of thing. Peace on earth, good will toward man.