Call Me Scrooge … I Hate Inflatables
Hear me out before you judge.
“Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today to mourn the demise of Frosty (the Snowman), Rudolph (the Reindeer), a slew of unidentified Christmas characters, and several iterations of Santa himself, all of whom gave their last gasp sometime between yesterday and my walk this afternoon. May they rest in pieces in the front yards of friends and neighbors, reminding us of the fleeting and ephemeral nature of life itself.”
Inflatables suck. Or, more accurately, deflatables suck. While the idea of whimsical holiday creatures blown up like balloons, wafting in December breezes, may seem a delightful fancy, why can’t barely a one hold their position (air) long enough to get us through the damn holiday … or even the week … one night? What’s the point of assigning them the job of “our really fun front yard Christmas decorations” if they’re flat on their asses (or faces, as it were) well before the second week of Advent?
Case in point:
And that’s just around my neighborhood!
There’s something uniquely depressing about these aggressively colorful characters lying around like so much flotsam and jetsam when their singular purpose is to convey good cheer, raise spirits, and celebrate the season in festive fashion. I’ve walked through my neighborhood (and others) making note that somewhere around 85% of all Christmas inflatables (and, no, that’s not a proven statistic) are lying flat and lifeless more often than not. Which seems a dereliction of duty.
Here’s the problem: They’re not state-of-the-art decoration items. They have no actual endurance or sustainable shelf life. They’re TOYS, blow-up dolls meant to delight children who don’t give a hoot about holiday aesthetics or the soul-killing effect of deflated Santas on people fighting to stay jolly during what can be a triggering season. Kids like ’em because they look like cartoons. Some adults like them (really?) because they look like those “hands-in-the-air” grinning tube men swaying like lunatics in front of car dealerships, who, by the way, seem to take better care of their air-filled staff than, say, the owners of these sick puppies:
Tell me, how sad is that flat-ass snowman, or the Santa face-planted under a window box during this most wonderful time of the year?
Sad. Very sad.
You know how when you get a pet and must fully commit to the daily care and feeding of that dependent critter? Well, so too must you extend the same maintenance to your inflatables. You don’t buy a dog then leave it out in the yard to languish and eventually collapse to the lawn. Nor do you truss them up on the roof ignoring their full-frontal disintegration in front of the entire neighborhood. So, why such errant treatment of your deeply-dependent Christmas creatures?
After Amazon delivers ’em, or you pick some up from Target; after you put them out on the lawn with the kiddies squealing, “They so cute, Daddy, we love them!”; after the house lights are off and you trundle to bed with nary a thought to your grinning Frosty wobbling over the garage, you still remain responsible for their viability.
Meaning: either put that air-blower thingy on a timer, or wake up every morning prepared to make management of Rudolph, Frosty, and Santa a top — and first — priority. Get out there and make sure they’re blown-bloated before the kids wake up screaming, “Santa’s dead, Daddy, and he’s falling off the ladder!” or the neighbors glower as they speed walk past your cadre of characters wadded in a mess by the front bushes. You owe it to your family, your neighbors, certainly your inflatables, to step up. To not do so is to flout the very message of the season:
“Lo, be joyful and merry, invite the season to warm your hearts and souls, and if those hearts stir you to fill your yard with googly-eyed Christmas blow-ups, honor the peace and goodwill of the holiday and make sure the damn things are up and at ‘em.”
I’d credit the quote but I’m not sure who said it. Either way, the point is made.
FACT: Inflatables are high maintenance; they demand your daily dedication. If you can’t be trusted with them, don’t take ’em on. Fall back to old stalwarts like manger scenes, stick reindeer, or that old jalopy with a Santa skeleton. OK, don’t do that last one, but whatever you do, commit to it, people! Santa Claus is coming to town and those deflated inflatables will not do!
