The Best Santa Letter Ever

It's an open secret that I, erm, help Santa with his e-mail each year. That is, children (or adults) can submit a note to Santa using the form on the Santa's Village website, and Santa will send them back an e-mail.

This is, for the most part, a simple task. Santa has been answering letters for quite a long time, so he has a ready-made selection of common responses and general well-wishes. It becomes trickier, and more time consuming, when someone includes a question that requires a more specific response. Santa doesn't ignore those questions; that might lead someone to think he isn't real. On the other hand, Santa never tells whether someone is going to get a specific item or not; that might spoil the surprise.

Then, of course, there are... let's call them "technical difficulties". Santa receives e-mails from people who mistype their e-mail addresses, misspell their own names (or the names of their children), and generally make it more difficult it should be to figure out whether they've been Naughty or Nice. The average response time for Santa's e-mails would probably improve by 20% if people would just use capital letters when they type in their names.

Every once in a while, though, Santa gets a letter for which the typical Christmas responses are just... inadequate. I'm not talking a slightly off-beat Christmas request, like a new Ferrari or Alan Rickman (though Santa has, in fact, gotten requests for both of those). These are e-mails that take the whole purpose of Santa Letters, thumb their noses at it, and head boldly off in some other direction. This one - my absolute favorite example of the genre - dates from 2005, so I don't see any reason not to reproduce here. And so, without further ado:

From: M[redacted]
To: Santa Clause
Subject: Free the reindeer

Please free the reindeer, and use a motorized sled instead. Also, go on a diet. It's better for your health.

Clearly, this could not go unanswered. Just as clearly, this was not a child who would be satisfied by bland reassurance that she had been good this year, and that Santa was coming soon. Another sort of response was required.

From: Santa Claus
To: M[redacted]
Subject: M's Letter to Santa

Dear M,
Hello from everyone at the North Pole! Let me clear up a few things you may not understand. All employment at the North Pole is voluntary. Both Elves and Reindeer enjoy generous salaries, a comprehensive insurance program, and a lavish 401k program. Your concern is appreciated, but this is a family operation – not a sweatshop.

Naturally, I have no wish to contribute to the unemployment rate of magical flying reindeer. Personal considerations aside, the Reindeer are quieter and much more environmentally friendly than a mechanical sled would be. And, of course, they can get me all the way around the world in a single night, which would be impossible using a motorized sled.

Your concern for my health is also appreciated, but the extra weight helps me keep warm.

We all enjoy making your Christmas Special. Now take good care and get to bed early on Christmas Eve, and before you know it I'll be visiting you!

Lots of love from
Santa Claus

Sometime it's worth taking the extra time to do something right. Santa got a nice little thank-you note back from the child's father, too.

Wednesday Evening Music: Christmas Carols To Avoid

When I was living in Lawton, Oklahoma - over a decade ago - I got a job selling eyewear in the mall.

The mall was not the only significant feature of the town of Lawton; but, well... we're talking about a town that effectively tripled its population (on paper) by annexing the local Army base, Fort Sill. We're talking about an area where they occasionally bused students in from the surrounding communities so that they could see what a mall looked like. It wasn't, in other words, a town with a lot going for it.*

Anyway, the mall started playing Christmas music the day after Halloween. I have ranted before, in various places, about the fact that there are only about two dozen actual Christmas carols in existence, which is ridiculous given how many Christmas albums get recorded each year. Even relatively new Christmas songs seem compelled to borrow melodies from existing ones; and having hundreds of different musicians produce their own versions and arrangements doesn't even begin to make up for this fundamental lack of variety.

The mall, as I said, started playing Christmas music right after Halloween. Those of us working there had to put up with an unbroken stream of Christmas carols for nearly two full months.This is a bad situation, and Lawton - being Lawton - made it worse. You see, the mall only owned two CDs of Christmas music. Two. That's all. Playing maybe - maybe - ten songs apiece, in random order, for two solid months. This alone should violate some sort of Geneva convention, but I'm not done yet. Oh, no. It gets worse.

You see, each CD had a version of "Walking in a Winter Wonderland." I don't care who sings it, or how it's arranged musically - and neither of these versions was the least inspired on either account - this is one of the stupidest, most annoying songs ever composed. It's horrible, execrable, irredeemable. And we heard it, over and over and over and... Gah. Just thinking about it makes me want to fetch a whetstone and prepare for a homicidal, axe-wielding frenzy.

Once we even got to hear both versions, back to back. Gah! No sane and loving god would permit such things to happen. Ia! Cthulhu ftaugn! Blood!

...Ahem. Pardon that. I'm just going to go... wash up... and maybe burn these clothes... and wipe the fingerprints off the axe handle. I'll, uh, I'll be right back.

---

* This may reflect my bias rather than consensus reality. I have few fond memories of Lawton, but a lot of that has to do with it being the setting for a rather difficult time in my life, rather than the town itself (necessarily). This was also some time ago, so things might have changed since then.

Writing Resources Revisited

Back in July, I posted about online writing resources and several of the classes that I've found helpful. One of the teachers I mentioned, Laurie Schnebly Campbell, is offering a class in January of 2010, on the general topic of working past the things that keep you from writing. So, if you're having trouble with your writing (organization, motivation, writer's block), or you're just interested in tips and tricks to help your writing process along, go take a look. I took a similar class back in... April, I think... and found it really helpful.

Information on the class can be found here:
http://www.neorwa.com/index.php/Workshops/Workshops

You can learn more about Laurie Schnebly Campbell at her website:
http://www.booklaurie.com/

We'll Pay You For The Inconvenience, Part 2

This is a follow-up to a scenario introduced in the last post. If you haven't read that one already, please do; this will make vastly more sense if you read them in order. The first story I wrote in response to that thought experiment, though fun, ignored some of the more complicated variables in the scenario. As a result, I was left with a sequel running around loose in my brain. It looks like this:

Opening shot of a bus driving down a two lane highway in the middle of nowhere.

VOICEOVER: "Two years ago, my father ceased to exist. I don't mean he died or went away. I mean he was never here."

Camera angles in on bus.

VOICEOVER: "My mother doesn't remember him. She doesn't remember being married, or giving birth to me. Hell, I'm not sure she even remembers what it was like to be happy."

Cut to inside bus, where a young man is slouching on a seat. He is scruffy, dressed in jeans, workboots, and a faded jacket.

VOICEOVER: "So when something appeared in my apartment, I ran. I've been running ever since. I live off the grid now, keep my head down. It doesn't help. They're still looking for me."

Young man looks out the window, sees old woman on roadside, then settles back as the bus passes by.

VOICEOVER: "But that's okay. I'm looking for them, too. There's a gun in my bag. A knife, too. I'd carry explosives if I thought it would make any difference. My jacket has holy symbols from a dozen different religions sewn into the lining. And right now, I'm working my way down to South America. Because my Dad's down there, somewhere in the Andes. And I will have him back, if I have to break the world to do it."

...But We'll Pay You For The Inconvenience

The following thought experiment was suggested by someone in a comment thread on another blog:

Suppose you are approached by an auditor of reality, who informs you that due to a clerical error you were born with the wrong race/gender/sexual orientation/etc. The auditor has no choice but to correct this error immediately, but by way of compensation will offer you a one-time lump sum payment. Knowing that from now on, people will deal with you as if you are and always have been your new race/gender/sexual orientation/etc, but that you will retain all your current skills and capabilities, how much do you feel would be a sufficent compensation?

I tend to do my thought experiments in story form, so here was my first response:

Michael turned to look at the figure beside him. He was, simply, surprised beyond the ability to form a coherent reply.

The figure was humanoid tall, lean, and faintly transparent. In addition, it seemed to emit a faint golden glow, though it was hard to be cure with the lights on and a white wall behind it. Everything else about it was in a constant state of nearly superliminal flux. "Did you hear me?" it asked, in a voice possessed of that same nothing-and-everything quality. "I need to discuss a small clerical error with you."

Michael swallowed, and finally found his voice. "In my bathroom?" he asked.

"Yes," said the apparition. "We are in your bathroom. I am an auditor, and I am here to correct an error."

"You've come to give me my Vast Supernatural Powers?" Michael asked hopefully.

The auditor continued unfazed. "No. There was a clerical error. You were born to the wrong parents, in the wrong place. You must be removed to your proper place, and this must be done now. Some compensation can be made for the inconvenience."

Michael hesitated, sorting questions in his mind. It never occurred to him that he might be dreaming, but then that sort of thing seldom occurred to him when he actually was dreaming. "How does that work?" he asked. "I mean, if you move me to, say, China, I'm probably going to stand out."

"You misunderstand. You will be placed in your intended role, including the necessary body. You may keep your memories and skills, if you wish, but everyone will treat you as if you are and always were as you should have been." The auditor was briefly hermaphroditic, then slipped into a broad-shouldered, round-bellied male body; it hair and face continued to cascade through a variety of features. "What compensation would you wish?"

"I'm being retconned?"

There was a pause. "Yes," said the auditor, "that is an apt description."

"And I'll have a completely different body?"

"Yes."

Michael reached for the toilet paper. "...Where are you putting me?"

"South America, in the Andes, near..."

Michael raised his hand. He didn't know enough geography to make sense of anything more specific than that. "And you won't, or can't, give me vast supernatural powers."

"No. Continuity is vital."

"But you can give some compensation - something you can slip into the world without spoiling the continuity? Money, or something like that?"

"That is correct." The auditor's voice was still strangely toneless, but Michael thought he detected something like relief.

"And I can't just refuse? I mean, I like my life, mostly."

"No. The error must be corrected. If I do not redirect you, then I remove you. Continuity is vital."

That sounds ominous. "Could you set up a gold mine, or something that would provide a steady source of modest income for me?"

The auditor paused again. "That could be done."

Michael stood and pulled up his pants, then turned to flush the toilet. When the roar died away, he looked at the auditor again. It was female now, with thin and curly silver hair, but then he blinked and it was younger, emaciated, darker-skinned. "Sure," he said. "Why not? I'm new here, I don't have that many friends, I've got no children - that I know of - and I'm not really going to miss this place. Set me up with a nice place to live and a steady source of income - and let me keep my memory and skills - and I'm good."

"It is done." The world seemed to shimmer, and suddenly the auditor's constant fluctuations seemed solid and unchanging. Then reality folded in around them again, and Michael found himself on a mountain path. He was aware of a weight on his back, and (partly as a consequence) aware that his body felt wrong. It was only when he tried to reach for the weight on his back - and nearly pitched himself face-forward onto the ground - that he realized what had happened. His hand was a hoof; his arm was a leg. The weight on his back was probably a set of saddlebags, and if the auditor had kept its word, there was probably a modest amount of raw gold in them. He turned his head, and saw the mouth of the mine in the mountainside behind him, saw dark-skinned men in grubby clothing loading up another beast of burden.

He'd kept his memories and skills, and even (possibly as a bonus) his intellect. There was a gold mine, to supply a steady income for him. No doubt there was also a nice place for him to live. He wasn't sure how much help that would be to a llama, though.

Wednesday Morning Music: Operatic Rock

It's snowing this morning. The ground's not cold enough for this to make any difference - that is, the streets aren't frozen, the snow only piles up on top of cars and shrubbery, and for all practical purposes this might as well be (a very cold) rainfall. Despite this fundamental wimpiness, it is the first snow of the season.

I'm celebrating by listening to My Winter Storm, by Tarja Turunen. This belongs to an (arguably) relatively recent genre, which I'd characterize as Operatic Rock or perhaps Operatic Metal. This sort of music is characterized by heavy metal drum and guitar riffs, balanced against more orchestral (classical and/or operatic) arrangements of other instruments. Themes and lyrics tend to focus on fantastic subjects, and the word 'melodramatic' should go in there somewhere, too. A lot of these bands are fronted by female singers, usually with operatic training.

I say this is "arguably" a recent development, as a lot of (what I grew up calling) heavy metal has always had its roots in classical and operatic themes; Queensryche is an obvious example, but you can also see the tendency in Iron Maiden, Trans-Siberian Orchestra (which is - or was - also the band Savatage, and has a nice cover of Grieg's "Hall of the Mountain King", from the Peer Gynt Suite) and, well, a bunch of other bands. (Apparently I'm too brain-dead to come up with decent examples, and too lazy to do research. Sue me.) I would argue that Evanescence also falls into this general category, though you're certainly welcome to disagree.

I stumbled onto this through one of my i-Tunes forays; I was looking for music about wolves, and pulled up "Seven Days to the Wolves" by the band Nightwish. This led me (by way of the "if you liked this, you might also be interested in" feature) to Within Temptation, Tarja Turunen, and After Forever; all very much in the same genre.

Then, a little while back, someone recommended a pair of albums by the band Kamelot: Epica and The Black Halo. Taken together, they form a retelling of the story of Faust. That, in turn, led me to the bands Epica and Katra, which are also doing interesting things from similar influences. (In fact, the lead singer from Epica makes a guest appearance on one of the Kamelot albums.)

For people who like this sort of music, these are all relatively well known bands. That being the case, I'd like to introduce one that I believe is more obscure: Xandria. I only have one of their albums - Salome The Seventh Veil - so I can't speak for their earlier work. Salome, however, is quite good, and incorporates some middle eastern influences into their songs. If you like this sort of music, and you don't know them already, give 'em a listen.

You Might Be An Asshole If...

I do a lot of reading online. Some of it is one-way - that is, it's a piece of text, and the only interaction comes from someone reading it - but a lot of what I read is interactive: message boards, comment threads on blogs, things like that. These are basically conversations, but conducted in text rather than sound.

Generally, I like this approach. Text conversations tend to be better thought out than spoken conversations, and if you're not sure what someone just said, you can go back and reread it. There are tradeoffs, of course - since you can't see stance or expression, it's hard to tell when someone is being ironic - but if you're willing to extend the benefit of the doubt and/or ask for clarification when needed, that doesn't have to be a problem. Also, I like to sit down and assemble my thoughts into a unified whole - and I can do that in text a lot more easily than I can while speaking.

Recently, though (say, within the last year), I've encountered several situations where one or more people takes advantage of the medium to be extremely rude. When someone pointed this out, they did not apologize; instead, they continued to be rude, or became even more rude. (I realize that this is actually quite common, but I generally stick to sites with good moderation and well-developed communities; so I don't run into it, much.)

I don't generally interact with those sorts of people. I don't need the grief, and there's never any benefit to it. Having encountered two of them in relatively close succession, however, I find myself considering the pathology of the behavior.

So, without further ado, I present the Top Five Signs That You Might Be An Asshole:

5. A lot of your fun comes from making things less fun for other people. (This doesn't mean you're superior; it just means that you're mean.)

4. You focus on winning the debate and/or showing how foolish your opponent's belief/opinion/stance is. (This is fine in an actual debate; but treating every conversation as a debate is a mistake. That's true even if it's only about a certain topic. This behavior is doubly foolish, as it fairly well guarantees that not only will you not get anything out of the discussion, but you won't convince anyone else, either.)

3. You defend your behavior by saying that people spend too much time being polite instead of saying what they mean, and/or complaining about people being "politically correct". (It is, in fact, perfectly possible to polite and clear at the same time.)

2. You're certain that you're strong, and the fact that other people get upset with you demonstrates their weakness. Alternatively, you're certain that the reason people get upset with you is because they know you're right (which is basically the same thing). (Anyone will get upset if someone pushes the right buttons. Also, can we stop with the lame metaphors and self-aggrandizing imagery? Honestly...)

And the number one indication is... ::drumroll::

1. You say things like "everybody makes mistakes" or "I've been wrong before" but somehow there's never any possibility that you might be wrong about the topic at hand. (Um, yeah. Really. Huh?)

Also, you get bonus points if you make a habit of communicating poorly and then acting smug, offended, or both when people misunderstand you or ask for clarification.