I know you're all waiting for day 12.....

but in the meantime, mosey on over to freerice.com. I can't get above 42, and it's making me feel like a moron!!!

OK, We know that your redeemer liveth, already!

Last night, The Colonel, dear friends, and I attended a performance of "The Messiah" put on by the Seattle Symphony.

It's been quite a few years since I visited this particular piece of music, but back in the day, it was quite the popular piece at both Gerald W. Kirn junior high, and Abraham Lincoln High School. I had vague recollections of "We, like Sheep, have gone astray" and of course the schmaltzy "Halleluia Chorus", but I was unprepared for the sheer monotony of all the solo pieces.

Luckily, the symphony thoughtfully included a libretto of sorts, so I could follow along and see how close we were to the blessed, blessed intermission, but it was still rough going. Thank GOD they had bars in the lobby. I really don't think I could have made it through otherwise.

The soloists were good, although the Alto had one of those thick mashed-potato type voices, and the Soprano got herself worked up into a tizzy at regular intervals. The Bass was an odd duck: He sat slumped in his chair for most of the performance, except when he was performing, and the Tenor was a hottie. But aren't tenors always hotties?

All in all, it was a stately, gracious evening. And now I know I never have to go see "The Messiah" again. My curiousity has been sated, and my nostalgia quelched.

I'm such a tease......

I know I owe you a day 12 of my sad Christmas misfits series, but I don't want to talk about that right now, because I want to tell you about my Exciting New Career Change!!!

Oh, now calm down - I'm still a traveling home electrical consultant, but now I work out of the south end!!!

The south service center of the Major Concern is not the lovely manicured suburban institution the the north service center, but it does have a certain charm. Us traveling home electrical reps share a somewhat rustic garret space, and we are a jolly bunch. Since we are located in a gritty urban environment, we lack the Starbucks and Burgermaster of the Licton Springs location, but the rats are really awfully friendly, and there is a big neon sign on top of it that is handy in case I forget where I work.

While I'll miss the fine folks of my previous district (Ballard, Green Lake, Phinney Ridge, Loyal Heights, Blue Ridge) my work there was done. My new district is much more hip and edgy: Columbia City Georgetown, and Seward Park. It has much more new construction, and lots more stuff that is actually being designed by architects, as opposed to the crappy developer stuff being thrown up in lower Ballard. It will be a challenge, but I am looking forward to it.

Needless to say, I'm a bit hectic right now, so you might have to wait a while until I get you Day 12, but I wanted to let you know what's going on with me, since the Good Taste Chronicles is all about me, right?

The 12 Days of Sad Christmas Misfits: Day Eleven

There's really nothing sadder than wasted talent is there?



This appalling birdhouse shows the signs of find craftmanship: Mitered corners, good gluework, sturdy. Really a fine piece of woodworking.

But why?

One possibility would be that this really is a birdhouse, intended to be used by birds. But that's pretty sick, when you think about it. Birds don't celebrate Christmas. Birds don't even KNOW it's Christmas. Would one hang up the birdhouse, lure a bird family into it, and evict them as soon as the holiday is over?

Another, and possibly darker, scenario would be that this craftsman decided to create this Christmas Birdhouse simply to spite the birds. Imagine a poor homeless bird family, huddling in the cold, looking in through the windows of the warm, lighted house and seeing this perfectly fine birdhouse. How cruel and un-christmaslike is that (Even though birds don't celebrate Christmas)

I, for one, find it singularly disturbing.

The 12 Days of Sad Christmas Misfits: Day Ten

Today, we have a curious offering, made out of some new space-age material. It's sort of rubbery, sort of spongey. Having been out of the arts and crafts scene for several decades, (I was asked to leave the Cub Scouts after they caught me with a pack of Virginia Slims) I have no idea what it is. Could it be that this is the new felt?

I like it's Dr. Seussian quality, but I especially like the missing letters, and the message itself: Season's Greetings. That's sure to disturb some of those more rabidly Xtian among us, and that's always a nice touch.

The 12 Days of Sad Christmas Misfits: Day Nine

Today, we shall talk about Nativity sets.

For those of you who don't know (because while 99.9% of my readers are people of taste and decency, there are the occasional interlopers who find their way here by accident, and need help on the road to tastefulness) a Nativity set is a recreation of the birth of Our Lord.

Most Nativity sets are tastefully done: Plaster or sometimes crystal, with a small structure intended to represent the barn that He was born in. Most non-crystal versions make at least an attempt to show that the Holy Family was not white (although the results is usually sort of a Mediterranean complexion - as if Mary and Joseph had come down to Israel for vacation, and forgot to make reservations at the Sheraton)

But I saw one today that was the epitome of poor Christmas Taste and a true offense to decency. Ladies and Gentlemen, I bring you the Precious Moments Nativity Set.



This is so wrong on so many levels. Ignoring the whole color thing for a moment, they look like they're seven! While Mary was undoubtedly quite young (those ancient people were depraved!) she was a least of a "womanly age" when the Angel visited her with the glad tidings that she was knocked up and about to give birth to the savior of the world (The Angel left out the part about how she didn't get to have sex, and how her child is going to die a horrible death. He also neglected to mention that the child's followers would be responsible for untold miseries in His name, and how she would be continuously pestered by Catholics wanting stuff during her afterlife, but sometime it's hard to keep track of details. Or maybe that info was above his pay grade.)

Anyway, at a cool $150, there was no way I was bringing that to Chez Vel-Duray. I would do almost anything for you dear readers, but that is one thing I am not prepared to do.

But I can't leave you without restoring a modicum of taste to the post, so I will close with this picture of the Vel-DuRay nativity set, which was purchased from Kilpatrick's Department Store in Omaha back in 1960 or thereabouts. It's a family heirloom, and while a bit worse for the wear, it still has oodles more class than that vulgar Precious Moments set.

The 12 Days of Sad Christmas Misfits: Day Eight

Today, we take you to the bleak landscape of the disenfranchised. They celebrate Xmas too, of course. They're ust not very excited about it.

And it shows in their crafts. Take a end piece of a 2x4, slap some paint on it, and a few buttons and ribbons, cut the sleeves on an old flannel shirt and glue it to the head, dust the whole top with some flour or confectioner's sugar, and what do you have?

You have a lame-ass snowman, that's what you have.

I'm gonna go get drunk now.

We interrupt our Christmas Series....

To just say a few things about the shooting in Omaha.

First off, let me say that I spent a good part of my teenage years in Westroads, but that was 25 years ago. The whole place has been redone, and most of the original stores are gone, in favor of standardized blandness (Omahans love their standardized blandness) The shooting happened at Von Maur, which is where the Bishops Buffet used to be. Bishops was known for its over-the-top decorating, and the uniformed girls who carried your tray to your table, and poured coffee for you when you turned a little light on on your table. I've never been to Von Maur, but I did go to college with one of the Von Maur boys.

Being Omaha, many people are suggesting that if everyone was armed, this wouldn't have happened. While I don't really have much of a problem with gun ownership, I don't agree with that premise. People quite understandably get nervous and scared when a psycho opens fire, and that doesn't lead to good shooting. I think you would probably end up with more dead people, not less. A circular firing squad, you might say.

Being a knee jerk, tree-hugging liberal, I like to look at the root cause of things, rather than engage in hysteria, and I suspect what might have happened is that this kid went nuts because he was put on anti-depressants. Anti-depressants have done some wonderful things for adults, but they can really mess up young people, causing them to become suicidal and psychotic. The pharma companies, who didn't test these drugs on kids, try to say that everything is fine, and that things like this are anomolies. But I'm not so sure. Obviously, this kid had bigger issues, but I really don't think the AD drugs helped.

Anyway, it's a sad, sad thing to happen to a town that has more than its share of violence, and it will doubtless make for a sad Christmas this year, and for that, I'm very sorry.

So enough of that. Here's a picture of Westroads during happier times.

The 12 days of sad Christmas Misfits: Day Seven

Today, we find ourselves firmly back in the land of crafts. School or scout crafts, I believe.

I'm not really sure what purpose this particular item is supposed to serve. Probably something depressing, like being a surrogate tree for shut-ins.

You'll note that it's all felt, all the time, and it looks like there was some creative use of the scissors. For fasteners, we have both staples and glue.

Overall, I'd give it an A for execution, and an F for functionality. But I suppose you really can't expect much from a felt Christmas tree, can you?

The 12 days of sad Christmas Misfits: Day Six

Today, we bring you a holiday non-sequiter. An item that has no meaning that I can discern. No label either, as it was apparently made by a "Kristy" in 1990. If it is some sort of pop culture reference, it is so obscure that no one I have consulted can recognize it.

But really, everyone should have a Christmas Racoon, don't you think?

The 12 days of sad Christmas Misfits: Day Five

Ok, I'm branching out a bit from crafts now, and taking on some of the more pathetically venerable parts of the Xmas collection here at Chez Vel-DuRay.

I found this darling piece in a thrift store a couple of centuries back, and have always dragged it out for the holidays. Every year The Colonel threatens to run it through the dishwasher, but thankfully he never does. If he did, it would no doubt finally disintegrate, and that would be a real shame. It really is wonderfully campy.

(Not that The Colonel has any right to lord it over me about my tacky floral tribute. Those dancing Santas are from his side of the family.

The 12 days of sad Christmas Misfits: Day Four

Let this be a warning: When you give a middle-aged homosexual a hot glue gun, a red dress, a manequin, some old fake fur, and a bottle of wine, unfortunate things can happen.

I'd heard tell, and I tended to agree, that Mrs. Dan Langdon needed a holiday ensemble. So I gathered myself together, and headed to the Christmas store, where I discovered that a Mrs Santa Outfit would set me back sixty bucks.

So I headed to St. Vincent de Paul, where I found a red dress for $7.00. Then I ascended into the attic of Chez Vel-DuRay, where I had boxes and boxes full of ridiculously oversized xmas stockings (long story). Then I got out my sewing kit, and opened a particularly cheap cab/merlot blend.

The results were this. In a just world, I would never have the nerve to nitpick about other people's attempts at crafts. But this ain't no just world, so you'll have to indulge me.

The 12 days of sad Christmas Misfits: Day Three

Today, we feature Sad Candy Santa, a noble construct of a brandy snifter for the body, a tiny goldfish bowl for the head, some spangly eyes and - yes, you guessed it - felt.

He has a certain Hanna Barbara quality about him, don't you think?

He is sitting on my desk at The Major Concern, passing the time with his buddy Reddy Kilowatt, who is semi-retired from the industry.

The 12 days of sad Christmas Misfits: Day Two

Oh, what Joy can be wrought from a roll of Toilet Paper, a styrofoam ball, and an old tube sock! Add a pair of googley eyes and we're talking serious craftiness here.

He's missing his original arms, which - along with the eyes - made him a must-have for the Xmas Craft Collection. He's a plucky little snowman, and we are lucky to have him. At least we know he won't melt.

The 12 days of sad Christmas Misfits: Day One

While I generally despise anything crafty (other than a well-crafted bon mot, of course) I do have a soft spot for products of involuntary crafters - cub scouts, invalids, and the like - especially at Christmas time.

You know the gig: Some sadistic scout leader or art teacher decides that everyone is going to make a Santa out of old pantyhose, and give it to their mother. Mother, upon receiving the gift, ooohs and aaahs over it, and then promptly puts it in the attic for the next sixty years, to be dealt with by that same child when cleaning out the house after she's called home to The Lord.

That's where I come in. If they give me the right vibe, I scoop them up, and place them around the house as part of Our Holiday Decor. The Colonel, having been something of a crafter himself in his day (however did we end up together?) thinks this is simply splendid, so there you go.

Today's example is what I call "the twins": Composed of what I firmly believe are old bottles of Lancer's wine and some felt and styrofoam (felt and styrofoam are a mainstay of the accidental crafter) I suspect that they are supposed to evoke a feeling of an old-timey barbershop quartet. The only trouble is half of the group has gone missing. But those remaining soldier on, bravely exuding Xmas cheer from every pore....