WELL, FOLKS. IT’S THAT time of year again. It’s time for another mediocre Star Wars flick.
Nah. I’m joking. Rogue One was pretty awesome.
Well…the last two minutes anyway.
Well… Except for that bringing back a young Princess Leia thing. That was a one-way ticket to the uncanny valley. Mind you, it wasn’t Polar Express-level uncanny valley, but Rogue One Princess Leia definitely lives on an Alderaan adjacent to that creepy-kids-with-dead-eyes neighborhood that is Polar Express.
I guess the silver lining, if there’s any, is that Polar Express isn’t a mediocre movie.
Unlike some Christmas movies, Polar Express is a fairly decent Christmas flick. Some Christmas flicks are downright pieces of shit.
I’m talking December-release Star Wars flick level mediocre.
A funny thing about Christmas is that it’s a holiday swimming in mediocrity.
Just take, for instance, the Christmas
torture device jingle”Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer”. That yuletide ditty about a dysfunctional family’s struggle to cope with an alcoholic member of the family’s sudden and tragic (and perhaps not entirely accidental) alcohol-related death is all kinds of suck ass, even for a Christmas song.
She had hoof prints on her forehead and incriminating Claus marks on her back — that’s not a Christmas song, it’s an episode of Forensic Files.
By the way, Grandpa totally murdered his wife and made it look like she’d been the unfortunate victim of a drive-by sledding. I saw a woman murder her husband the same way on an episode of Snapped.
And let’s not forget that Christmas also spawned the Faul McCartney song “Wonderful Christmastime”. *
I actually like that song.
It’s catchy. Catchy in the same way an incantation from the Necronomicon is… catchy.
As far as I’m concerned, it ain’t Christmas until I’ve annoyed myself singing that repetitive
chant that releases the souls of the ancient ones chorus —
Come on. Sing it with me, folks
SIMPLY HAVING A WONDERFUL CHRISTMASTIME!!!
I seriously think that singing the chorus of “Wonderful Christmastime”opens a portal to an alternate dimension.
Probably because every time I sing it, my apartment walls bleed.
But then, red is a Christmas color, so it’s all good.
I have gone dreadfully off topic.
You know, it’s not a regular philosopher thing to associate mediocrity with philosophy. We, that is, those who do philosophy — especially those who do philosophy professionally — wouldn’t use a word like mediocre to describe anything associated with the love of wisdom.
Some might use words like stupid or irrelevant or useless
But not mediocre.
However, the fact that philosophy itself isn’t mediocre, does not mean it’s immune from an occasional bout of mediocrity.
I PROMISE I’M NOT GOING TO USE THIS AS AN OPPORTUNITY TO PICK ON IMMANUEL KANT.
I mean, just say the words “mediocre philosophy” and then count the minutes before somebody says the name Ayn Rand or has something to say about the trolley problem or rolls their eyes at the complete lack of any real-world practicality of the categorical imperative…
Philosophers may consider themselves the Philosopher-Kings of rational thought, but like Star Wars, Christmas music, and odd-numbered Star Trek movies, philosophy has its fair share of not very good ideas.
More than its fair share of mediocre ideas, actually.
Logical positivism fails its own verification principle.
According to some people, Atlas Shrugged is considered legit philosophy.
All bad ideas.
All mediocre ideas.
Enough with the philosophy stuff.
It’s Christmas. It’s time to simply do wonderful stuff. It’s time to listen to the choir children sing their song.
They’ve been practicing all year, you know.
It’s time to over drink, over think, over eat, and pretend that philosophy books make good Christmas presents.
Speaking of mediocre…
So, from me, The Mindless Philosopher, to you and your kin, Seasons Greetings, Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas or whatever preferred sentiment you use to wage the War On Christmas.
And as I tweeted this afternoon…
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!!!
* I consider the existence of “Wonderful Christmastime” to be definitive proof that the real Paul McCartney died in 1966. The real Paul would have never recorded this song.