I’ve Got Spirit, How ‘Bout You?
Today’s blog entry is brought to you by Wal-Mart, which is where I went last night, intending to do some Christmas shopping. On the way in, however, I ran into the Christmas angel tree thingy where poor kids write their Christmas wishes on paper angels, and hang them on a tree. Then do-gooders, like myself, are supposed to pick an angel off the tree and buy that child the item they asked for. Personally, I think it’s a pretty crappy way for Wal-Mart to boost sales during the holidays, but I’m a sucker for kids, so I decided to pick an angel from the tree.
I started skimming through the angels, trying to find a child that asked for something I could buy without too much hassle. The first few I read were from kids asking for school clothing, but how was I supposed to know what size to get, or what styles they might like? The last thing I need is some underprivileged kid getting beat up at school because of the shitty outfit I got him for Christmas.
The next angel I came to was from Efrain. Efrain was 11 years old and the only thing he wanted for Christmas was a Bible. I’m not religious, but I felt a little twinge in my heart because in my mind, Efrain is this little poor Mexican boy who was taken from his home because his parents beat him, and has since been passed around foster homes where he has endured unspeakable mental, physical, and sexual abuse. I see little Efrain sitting on Santa’s lap, and Santa asks him what he wants for Christmas. Efrain looks up at Santa with hard, yet innocent, doe eyes and says, “Santa, all I want for Christmas is a Bible so I may never lose my way in life.” Of course, in my mind, this all happens in Spanish with subtitles.
I thought to myself, “Efrain, your dreams are about to come true!” I was about to pull his angel off the tree and dash over to the book aisle, when below it I saw an angel from Juan who also wanted a Bible. A few angels to the right of Juan’s was Jorge’s who wanted a Bible as well. All in all, there were roughly 20 children on that tree, all Mexican, (and oddly enough, there were no duplicate names), and they all wanted Bibles. I hate to be cynical, but it appeared to me that some church was just making up fake Mexican children in order to stock up on a bunch of new Bibles. This revelation quickly brought me back to reality. I mean, who the crap asks for a Bible for Christmas anyway? If you ask me, I think even Jesus would be pissed off if he got a bible.
By then I had been standing at the angel tree for about 15 minutes and had yet to find a suitable angel. I was there so long, I think I started making the Wal-Mart Retarded Greater Person feel uncomfortable. I continued to read through the angels, but at by then, I felt somewhat skeptical about every one. I started making up stories about who the kids were, and based on their names, I would make judgments as to whether or not they deserved the item they asked for. I decided I wouldn’t choose a kid if his name sounded like he was tough, because I didn’t want to buy anything for someone who may try to rob me one day. Yeah, I know… I’m an idiot.
Then, I came across Jason’s angel. Jason wanted either an Alan Iverson Jersey or a Julius Irving Throwback Jersey. Jason was 18 years old. I pulled out my pen, and wrote on the back of his paper angel, “Jason, get a job!”
Finally I found Jessica. Jessica was 15yrs old and wanted a CD player, and a few CD’s. I was so drained from picking an angel from that stupid tree, I didn’t even bother doing any Christmas shopping. I went straight to Electronics department, got a CD player, a pack of batteries, and a gift card for CD’s, paid for them, dropped them in the tree angel gift bin, and went home.
Merry Christmas, Jessica!
