Carol of the Belle

Another weird year has come and (nearly) gone. And looking at all the colorful lights in the neighborhood (including in front of stately Jarlsberg Manor) and my recently finished gig as Santa Claus, it certainly seems to be Christmas. I hope that eventually daughter Jarlsberg and I can really feel it again, but it hasn't happened yet. Kathy made the magic, and holidays are very hard for us. So we mostly keep our heads down and hold our breath until it's safe for us to come out of emotional hiding.

That being said, the power and importance of Christmas have been very much on my mind lately because of its meaning for so many of my family members and friends (if you're reading these comments, you're in both categories). Which is why I was recently moved (inspired?) to begin work on an album of serious Christmas songs using Suno AI and some creative ideas on my part. I got too late a start to distribute the music this year, but next year it will be available through streaming services.

The music (Christmas standards all, although I hope to write one or more original songs from scratch) will be credited to a virtual artist named Vala, a Nordic songstress and multi-instrumentalist whose contemporary folk-rock music combines the fire and ice of the northernmost climes and cultures. At least in my imagination and, I hope, in the imaginations of others. 

Here's what the album might look like eventually...

...and here's a sample of the music which I hope you will enjoy...

I want to wish you and yours a very merry and meaningful Christmas, a happy Hanukkah, or the best possible outcome of your personal pursuit of peace on Earth and good will toward men.

- Stilton

PS: Just in case you were in the mood for something funnier, check out another Youtube video of mine in which a classic Christmas song is performed by drunken pirates. I'm not sure why no one else has pursued this niche before...

The (Red) Suit Makes The Man

Of course, you'll have to sign a liability Claus

Recently, I was surprised to get a phone call from an organization that needed a Santa Claus for a high-profile public event in my hometown of Plano, Texas. A mutual acquaintance recommended me because I'm unemployed, only need to wear red to look like Santa, and can be jolly for short periods in public. Granted, I'd never tried doing so while cold sober, but it was at least theoretically possible.

It didn't seem like it would be that hard a gig - all Santa has to do is ask kids what they want, say "Ho, ho, ho" more often than a rapper, pose for a picture, then send the tot on their way by throwing a small candy cane as far as possible. But it turns out that there's a lot more to it than that.

There is a fascinating subculture of professional Santas and rules about what to do and what not to do. And while doing homework, I quickly learned that saying the wrong thing could scar a child for life, and that having your hands in the wrong place when the camera flashed could get you in a world of trouble. Did you know that Santas buy insurance policies specifically to protect against accusations of (ahem) fondling? Yikes.

Then there's the tension between the Real Beard Santas and the Fake Beard Santas, which could make for a pretty hilarious Hatfield vs McCoys type feud when Hallmark runs out of other topics for Christmas movies. If a fake beard must be used, the only acceptable choice is to buy a custom model woven from yak hair (so named because of the sound you make if it gets in your mouth), which is applied piece by piece to the face with liquid latex or spirit gum.

There are books, documentaries, schools, and scores of YouTube channels about becoming a good Santa. All of which are invaluable if you want to put yourself into a state of complete panic before ascending to the Big Man's throne...

This was my station - although that's not me in the picture.

The venue was Plano's Heritage Farmstead Museum - a great place to visit where you can see an 1800s farmhouse, a schoolhouse, old farming implements, farm animals, and a lot more. For their "Lights on the Farm" event, they have millions of outdoor lights, live music, s'mores and hot cocoa, and the opportunity to have pictures taken with Santa.

On the night I was there, we had about 1000 guests during my 3-hour shift (albeit not all of them sitting on my lap). The kids were great - some in awe, some intimidated, some screaming as if I were the Shropshire Slasher. But I did my best to be Santa - sympathetic, jolly, and a bringer of hope and goodwill. And while the focus is always on the kids, I was able to work some parent-friendly patter into my routine. After the camera flashed, I would complain that there are a million pictures of me looking jolly, but the picture on my driver's license just makes me look like a goofball. Which, by the way, is absolutely true.

The time flew by, and there was never a break in the flow of children. I returned home that night feeling quite good about the whole experience. However, the next morning my vocal cords were fried and I felt like I'd been beaten with fruitcakes. I am an extreme introvert, and there is an actual phenomenon called the "Introvert Hangover" that comes from expending too much energy in social interactions. And so I went from jolly old elf to walking dead overnight.

But it was a great experience, and I've still got a couple of nights on the throne (so to speak) coming up in the near future. With Christmas being a great deal more difficult since losing Kathy, I must say it's nice to be part of other people's Christmas and hopefully add to their joy. I will also enjoy the restorative coma that comes afterwards.

Here's hoping that the holiday spirit is touching all of you in one way or another, and since you've read this far, that is me in the cartoon at the top of the blog. And however foul-tasting it is, that beard's not yak hair.

BONUS: History Clarified

Some years ago, I did a simpler clipart version of this cartoon and it has since gotten a lot of mileage online.
But you saw it here first!

Ladybug, Ladybug, Fly Away Home

On Saturday, I had to make the call for in-home euthanasia of our dear old dog, Ladybug.  The sweet girl (about 14?) had bone cancer, failing kidneys, arthritis, and more. I wouldn't have let her be in pain and she wasn't. I walked her with a tote device (I joked that "this is my expensive new bag from Pucci") and maintained her med schedules more closely than my own. But her strength and interest in life were ebbing and on Saturday, I could see it in her eyes.

So we had a service come to our home rather than scare her one last time with a trip to the vet, and things went very smoothly. Bug wasn't scared or stressed and I was with her every step of the way. Of course, the pain I was feeling was off the charts (and truthfully still is). But it was the gentlest death anyone could hope for.

That being said, when Bug's heart stopped, the sweet young vet (Dr. Katie) said "she's crossed the rainbow bridge." And it was a kind thing to say, but it sure didn't FEEL like any rainbows had been involved. And afterwards, I made a dark cartoon which was posted here earlier but, at my daughter's request, has now been replaced.  

Most people here are aware (I think) that Johnny Optimism came into being when my mother died suddenly and circumstances wouldn't let me fly out for any kind of closure.  And so I started creating dozens of Johnny Optimism cartoons as a way to let out my pain...attempting to laugh, however bitterly, to keep from crying. And here, many years later, we still are. And the world still sucks too often and I still try to fight back with humor.

All of which is probably more than you need to know, so let me be perfectly honest: I could sure use a hug or two right now.

And in return, I'll try to make a more lighthearted post on StiltonsPlace.com either later this week or on Monday of next week. It will be funny, holiday-oriented, and introduce you to my exciting new role as a professional public Santa Claus. If I can't milk an anecdote or six out of that, I'm not the man I think myself to be.

Hug your dogs and spouses if you've got 'em, and your kids if they get jealous.   -Stilt

She was a Good Girl.