Rudolf's a Commie, and Other Christmas Epiphanies

(I really like the lip gloss. It's not weird at all. And it's cool that the marionettes have boob jobs and borderline  eating disorders. Or possibly coke habits. That can be the new normal!)

Let me get this straight. There's Dasher and Dancer and Prancer, Cupid and Comet and Vixen (unh, woah?), and Donner and Blitzen. ...And Rudolf? Now, I'll grant that the last two are kinda Teutonic, but they're still all adverbial or nouned verbs, or what have you. Horsey names, I mean. Rudolf, though, is ...well, it's an immigrant's name. Maybe even Yiddish, but certainly the kind of name you associate with people with heavy accents who like to talk about "the working class" and organise for the union.

And he had a red nose. In fact, he was Rudolf the Red... nosed reindeer. So, while he had a funny name, that wasn't the reason that he wasn't allowed to play any reindeer games. The greatest triumph of false consciousness comes when the vanguard party is isolated from the workers' movement.

And then, one low-visibility day, Santa came and asked Rudolf to lead the team. Now, Santa is a fat, jolly old guy who is hard working to a fault. No matter how hard it gets, he always finishes his rounds. And if he likes him some milk and cookies, or even a rum and eggnog or two along the way, well, that's the kind of guy he is. He is the broad masses of the working class, that's who he is. And, unlike the leadership of what is laughably called the labour movement, he sees that only the illumination of the Marxist dialectic can penetrate the fog of late capitalism.

And so it comes to pass that the labour movement, now under Communist leadership, successfully delivers the gift of revolution to the world. Rudolf's name can now go down in history. Of course it can! This is the end of history.

Or, rather, I feel like ending history every time this song plays at work. Admittedly not as much as with "Winter Wonderland." I hate you, (smug) perspiring conspiring lovers by the fire! I don't hate you like I hate that awful couple going to the Christmas party at Father Whatsisname's. Them I want to bury alive in a horrible death pit filled with hot chestnuts. The thing is, your life is too easy. I want to break you up so that you can experience real pain and scarring rejection.
Honestly, it'll be good for you in the long run. You'll be too chicken to ask anyone else out ever again, and while you'll die lonely, at least your cats will have somewhere to live. Why aren't there any Christmas specials about aging cat-batchelors regretting all of their missed chances?

In other words, these songs trigger self-loathing, and while self-loathing can motivate you to get out there and do your Christmas shopping, it's still a mean trick to play.

And since it has been asked, not by anyone I remember and not this year, why all the characters in children's Christmas songs are male....