So far, 2015 has been the year of ongoing outrage. From Aaron Schock to Indiana bakers, Hillary’s emails to Trump’s wall, all the way to Kim Davis’ blue jumper to Houston’s bathroom phobia, I have zigged and zagged with the scandals and controversies, trying hard to find the energy to be outraged about every twist and turn in the road. But I’m done. Because now, the powers that be have decided it’s time to be outraged about Christmas.
It’s not just that we have the “Happy Holidays” versus “Merry Christmas” thing…that one’s been taxing my patience for a while now. What really got my goat was the mini explosion on Facebook last week when some folks started posting pictures as they began to decorate for Christmas and other folks took to complaining about people decorating before Thanksgiving. Really? People in the Christmas spirit early need to be discouraged, even disparaged? There’s just too much “peace on earth, goodwill towards men” spirit around in early November? Come on…give the Christmas elves a break.
And now the backlash of outrage about the Starbucks red cup. And the backlash of outrage to the backlash of outrage about the Starbucks red cup. This one is pure genius, because you almost have to be outraged one way or the other. But I’ve got my own way out.
I’m not participating because I’m too outraged about the price of the blasted coffee. I like my coffee strong, a holdover of my years in Louisiana, so we have French Market coffee shipped in from New Orleans. When I said to my husband that you can buy a pound of coffee for what you pay for a venti caramel Frappuccino with soymilk and an espresso shot, my husband (ever the realist) said, “No, because the can of coffee is only 12 ounces.” Really? “Ok, then, two shots of espresso.”
Honestly, if you think the American economy isn’t growing fast enough, maybe it’s because too many people are spending their disposable income at Starbucks. Which could also explain why Seattle has raised the minimum wage there to $15.
So, once again, I’ll consult one of my role models. Auntie Mame decorated in that pre-Thanksgiving period, thank you very much. (Rosalind Russell did it with more flair and better cinematography, but I’m not here to bash Lucy’s version.) And I don’t think Mame would have spent a minute crying about a cup that wasn’t Christmas-y enough. I think she would have just taken a Christmas pick from her hat (watch the Russell movie if you don’t get the reference…and shame on you), stuck it in her cup, and moved along. And, what’s good enough for a gay icon is good enough for me.