I loved seeing the Saami and traders from other lands. It was a great way to keep the feel consistent but also remind (certain) folks that people of color weren't invented when Chris Columbus sailed the ocean blue. -The magic. I loved the dreams and animals and reindeer road! Things that left me wanting a bit more:-The details. We really float 4 Written Quotes. Loaded 0%. I'm like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. If I'm not ready, the sled isn't going to go. Votes: 3. Kevin Garnett. Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer, had a very shiny nose. And if you ever saw him, you would even say it glows. Votes: 1. Then how the reindeer loved him As they shouted out with glee "Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer You'll go down in history" Then one foggy Christmas Eve Santa came to say "Rudolph, with your nose so bright Won't you guide my sleigh tonight?" Then how the reindeer loved him As they shouted out with glee "Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer You'll go All of the other reindeer used to laugh and call him names. They never let poor Rudolph join in any reindeer games. Then one foggy Christmas Eve Santa came to say: “Rudolph with your nose so bright, won't you guide my sleigh tonight?” Then how the reindeer loved him as they shouted out with glee: Then how the reindeer loved him As they shouted out with glee, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, You'll go down in history. (musical interlude) Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer Had a very shiny nose, And if you ever saw it, You would even say it glows. All of the other reindeer Used to laugh and call him names; They never let poor Rudolph Then all the reindeer loved him As they shouted out with glee Rudi the red-nosed reindeer You'll go down in history Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer Had a very shiny nose And if you ever saw it You would even say it glows All of the other reindeer Used to laugh and call him names They never let poor Rudolph Join in any reindeer games . Then how the reindeer loved him I saw Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer the other night, the stop-motion animation one with the Burl Ives songs. It's pretty disturbing, more so than I'd remembered. Here's what happens the day Rudolph is born:Donner (Rudolph's father): Wow, my new son is so cool. He looks just like everybody else! Awesome![Suddenly and without explanation, Rudolph's nose begins to glow and make a terrible sound.]Donner: Ahh! My son is broken! Oh no, this is horrible! Santa is going to hate him! What can I do? I have to hide him quick before Santa comes!Santa: Ho ho ho! Hello Donner! I've come to see your new son! Ho ho ho![As if on cue, Rudolph's nose starts glowing again and making the same irritating high-pitched noise as before.]Santa: Um, Donner? What uh... what's going on here? Your son is... broken. Is this some kind of joke? What's the matter with you people? I swear to god Donner, unless you repair this demented son of yours, I will never let him perform manual labor for me![Santa sings a song about how wonderful Christmas is and then leaves.]Donner: Aw, gee. Santa's right. My new son sucks...Things go downhill from there. Saturday, December 3, 2011 Then how the reindeer loved him... A beautiful window, looking like a work of art; the windows at Ermenegildo Zegna. I love the layers of the silver reindeer and the light blue lights on each. So classic, elegant and perfect for the winter Holiday. Posted by Window Dresser at 4:51 AM Labels: Ermenegildo Zegna, Holiday 2011 No comments: Post a Comment I’m not usually one to do an about-face in my opinion of someone that I dislike without a face-to-face encounter with them. I have a really hard time disliking people that I’ve spent time with…unless they’re just genuinely bad people. But, that happens very rarely, almost never. Once I’ve met you, even if it takes some Indiana Jones style archeology, I can find the good in anybody or at least a really compelling rationalization for the bad. It’s sometimes very hard to reconcile my relativist tendencies with my staunchly Christian personal values. For instance, I’m a 30-year-old virgin, because pre-marital sex is destructive, distracting, and wrong. As a matter of fact, if I never get married, I solemnly swear to die a virgin. No hail-Mary, deathbed tryst with a prostitute for me. However, if I see that’s the direction I’m headed, I may have to recant my disavowal of masturbation sometime in my late forties. Yes, it’s TMI, but as a blog subscriber you’re reading people’s innermost thoughts, so plan on occasionally coming across stuff that should have stayed more inner. But, I digress from my original digression vis-à-vis I’m a relativist. I can stand on the promises and the prohibitions of the Word of God, because I have His Spirit living inside of me. If I know that you don’t have His Spirit, I’m not looking to you to live up to Jesus’ standard. I’m just praying you can stay alive long enough to meet Him. Because, even though I am a Christian and have the Holy Spirit, my “stand” can sometimes bear a striking resemblance to “hanging on for dear life.” This reality can be, in the words of Dave Chappelle, a little flimsy. And, forget what you heard: being a Christian can sometimes make it harder. I couldn’t imagine trying to do this by myself. If it weren’t for God, I would be dead, dumb, crippled, crazy, or some combination of the four. But, because of God, I have the assurance that I’m never alone and never without love and EVENTUALLY things will work out. So, I have joy and peace before, during, and after the bad times, and I have a lot of really great times and great things due entirely to God. Those people who are trying to go it alone have my utmost sympathy. And if every once in a while, you need some sex or some drink or a puff of something or an extra slice of cake, I’m not mad at you. Again, it’s destructive, distracting and wrong, it won’t be me and it doesn’t have to be you, but I my relativist worldview, there’s almost a separate spectrum for politicians. There’s good to bad for regular human behavior, then there’s so-so to abominable for politicians. That’s why when Christian Conservatives started acting like Clinton was The Anti-Christ for having and lying about an extra-marital affair, I was more shocked by them. There was all this talk of his leading children astray by modeling dishonesty and sexual immorality, and misrepresenting our nation’s Christian values before a world audience. My first thought (after I realized they were serious and stopped laughing) was, if your children are using a politician as a moral compass, you need to climb down off that soapbox and go pray about your parenting decisions. Like Chris Rock said, “He’s not Reverend Clinton.” And even if he was, our example of how to live is supposed to be our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Bill Clinton is cool people, but he’s not BE CONTINUED…Tune in next time, when I’ll continue to meander slowly toward a point. Join redditCreate an account to follow your favorite communities and start taking part in an accountPosted by5 years agoArchived This thread is archivedNew comments cannot be posted and votes cannot be castAbout Communityr/AskReddit is the place to ask and answer thought-provoking questions. Editor’s Note: This is the second story in the series “Tragedy of The Wolf.” To read the first story “The Big Bad,” click here. “So I take a lighter to the Pigboy Magazine,” says the wolf, “and lob it into the treehouse.” The group around the sorting table breaks into laughter and mock indignation. “Den what happened?” asks Boris the senior mail clerk, an overweight grizzly bear wearing a pair of old wire frame spectacles. “Well, someone musta seen me. Next thing I know, a cop shows up at our front door, says I better follow him back to the station. So I go with him, just a cub in a ragged sweatshirt and a baseball cap, not the faintest idea of the world of shit I’m in. They let me off with a warning. Made the next day’s papers though.” Another round of grunts and chortles. Boris takes a long swig from a beer bottle. “So how’d you end up in this dump?” asks Donner, one of the older reindeer around the table, with fur speckled with grey. “I never did see those three pigs again. Heard they’re down in the valley now. Lawyers, finance-types, who knows. Assholes is what they were. Ma died a couple years later, so I drifted. Worked on a farm. Met a girl. Followed her around for a while.” “Well, Terry from Woodsville,” says Donner, “I’m sure glad we’ve got an extra pair a’ hands around—“ An eighth reindeer bursts into the mail room, its gait awkward and exaggerated. Donner and the other reindeer scatter, doing their best impressions of busy people diligently inspecting parcels, holding them to the light, weighing them, and then sorting them into bins. Boris lumbers around double-checking parcels nonchalantly, a beer bottle-shaped bulge showing through the fabric of his oversized trousers pocket. “Ey!” says the reindeer. “Ey! What is this? You fools ain’t being paid to sit around. We’re on the clock here!” He taps his watch as one would their feet: obnoxiously, that is. The reindeer has a narrow face and a long snout that culminates in a large bulbous nose and flared nostrils. His grey suit jacket is half a size too large and hangs shapelessly off his lanky shoulders. “Sorry Rudy,” says Donner, “just getting to know the new guy.” He nods at Terence, who smiles meekly. “Getting to know the new guy. Getting to know—oh, I’m sorry, did I interrupt you guys? Can I offer you some cheese? Some crackers? A glass of champagne? No? You sure?” Rudy pauses to adjust his tie. “Because if I catch anyone one of you slacking off again—there’ll be hell to pay. You get me?” “Sorry Rudy—“ “Excuse me?” “Sorry— sir?” “Good. And new guy,” says Rudy, “get the fuck back to work.” He turns on his heels and strides through the double doors. “Who the hell was that?” says Terence. “Rudy. Used to be just some guy who worked here in the mail room,” says Donner. “We never got along with him. Never liked him. Just something about him, you know?” “Real prick,” says Boris. “Then one day he comes in to work like he’s about to have a coronary. Says he was having a smoke in the parking lot the night before and heard noises coming from an old Mercedes parked in the corner. He went over to check it out, and lo and behold: it was The Chairman. Mister-fucking-Claus himself, in the back seat doing the dirty with his secretary.” “Then what happened?” says Terence. “Well, the next morning management promoted him to Mail Room Assistant Supervisor. The Chairman even came down here to congratulate him. Now he thinks he’s the shit,” says Donner, “Just— you know, play along so he can lay off our backs.” “Yeah, total douche,” says Boris. Jiksun Cheung is a brand strategist and a postcard designer. He and his wife share their home in Hong Kong with two boisterous toddlers and enough playdough to last a lifetime. His work appears in SmokeLong Quarterly, The Molotov Cocktail, The Daily Drunk, Flash Fiction Magazine, and others. Find him at @JiksunCheung and

then how the reindeer loved him