January 11: Another BON Post, Begging, Ignorance and Want

Yes, this post is going to be about one of my favorite subjects:  the Blog of Note (BON).  The reason I'm writing about this subject yet again is that I just checked out yesterday's BON.  It's some guy talking about customer service and running a marathon or something.  I didn't really give it much of a perusal because I couldn't get past the fact that the author has only posted once in 2012 so far, and he only wrote like 24 or 26 posts total in 2011!

Now, either his content is so spectacular that he deserves to be the first person to win the Nobel Prize in Literature for writing a blog (which won't happen since that honor will be mine), or the good people at Blogger were really hard up yesterday.  I'm leaning toward the latter.  Either that, or the author of the blog has some incriminating pictures of an employee at Blogger that he was threatening to post.  (Yes, I've thought of every angle when it comes to being named a BON.)

My disciples know I'm not above begging and whining.  That's how I got my iPad 2, George, after many long years on my hands and knees.  I'm also not above animal sacrifice or prayerful extortion to get what I want.  So this plea/threat is my first of 2012 to the good people of Blogger:  name Saint Marty a BON or I will write an X-rated sonnet featuring several Blogger staff members and a herd of sheep.

I'm glad I got that out of my system.

I turned on my Christmas radio station this morning and found out that it's no longer a Christmas radio station.  It was playing "Burning Down the House" or some other song equally un-Yuletidish.  Therefore, my job of keeping the Spirits of Christmas Past, Present, and Future alive all year long has become decidedly more difficult.  I'm on my own.

I'm reminded of that little scene at the end of Stave Three of A Christmas Carol where the Ghost of Christmas Present reveals the boy and girl living under his cloak:

Don't look away

"They are Man's," said the Spirit, looking down upon them.  "And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers.  This boy is Ignorance.  This girl is Want.  Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased.  Deny it!" cried the Spirit, stretching out its hand towards the city.  "Slander those who tell it ye!  Admit it for your factious purposes, and make it worse!  And bide the end!"

It's a grim little scene.  Dickens paints a portrait of the future of England, where poverty and ignorance prevail, where children are left to grow up, uneducated and hungry, by the wealthier members of society.  Hmmmmm.  Sounds a little familiar to me.  Christmas disappears, and we all go back to our insular lives, worrying about apps for our iPads and iPhones, wondering how we can win meaningless awards like BON or the Pulitzer Prize.  Yes, I include myself in this indictment.  Here I am, a few weeks away from Christmas, and I'm back to my old gripes, grinding the same axes.

I need to keep Ignorance and Want in my head.  They really are my kids.  They're your kids, too.  For Ignorance and Want, Christmas is a hot bowl of oatmeal in the morning.  A classroom with a dedicated teacher.  A home with heat.  A warm winter jacket.  Christmas should be all year 'round.

In the Spirit of Christmas, should Saint Marty be awarded Blog of Note, he promises to donate all proceeds to his local food pantry.