It's that time of year again. Yes, it's time to decorate the house. Time to buy gifts and wrap them as well. Also time to send out cards, bake cookies, throw parties, feel festive, watch the Grinch on tv, and hope for snow. But that's not the time to which I refer.
No, it's time for the commercials to start. The commercials which really make me grit my teeth, mutter the occasional oath, and, rarely, launch something at the tv. The specific commercials to which I draw your attention are the ones where some seemingly dopey (and a few undeservingly grouchy) actors get a car for Christmas. Oh yes, a new car with a BIG RED BOW on it. And not just any car, not just any new car, but a Lexus for goodness sake. A Brand New Lexus. For Christmas.
Back in the old days when I used to read Harlequin romances, there was what I considered to be a lame argument against reading them. (Yes, I just admitted that I used to read the literary equivalent of a cereal box. Or what's on the plastic around the toilet paper rolls, if you're really desperate.) The argument was that you shouldn't read romance novels because they would set your expectations up too high. You would expect that at some point in your life you were going to have a mysterious, exciting romance, and reality, when it came, would cause you to drain the bitter cup. (Yes, Harlequins. The ones that could be written by computer for all of the interesting and original plot devices they contain. Now stick with me here.) No dashing stranger. No man who is desperate for the sight of you and can't live with out you. No tall, dark, handsome, and in love with your silly little self. In short, no white knight to come riding up at the 11th hour to sweep you off your feet, put you on the front of his horse, and take you off to live in the castle. (It was a long time ago. 25 years? I think I was thirteen at the time. Still embarrassing, but there it is.)
Well, if you want to talk about setting the bar a little too high, I think that the Lexus commercials set the bar into the troposphere. Or the stratosphere. Or even the mesosphere--you can just take your pick. Once upon a time I wondered if my parents would come up with a car for my graduation from high school. And then college. They didn't. But in all fairness, they really couldn't afford an exorbitant gift like that. How many people can? For that matter, how many of us are out there in the trenches day after day, trying to teach our children to be thankful for what they have, and to appreciate the good things, the blessings they have, and to not be ungrateful, apathetic, and indifferent by the time they are 6? There is the teeter-totter of giving your kids everything you want them to have and not giving them too much. And it's a teetery totter for us, I can tell you.
So I'll patiently drive in the incredible traffic and circle for as long as it takes to find a parking space. I'll calmly recycle the 23 daily credit card applications and 100 pounds of mail order catalogs that arrive in my mailbox. I'll even swallow the 489,000 diamond/jewelry commercials those of us who admit to watching tv are subjected to each day during the happiest time of the year. But I will not take the Lexus commercials sitting down. You can find me standing, probably in line to buy another gift for E. But it will be something small--maybe a teeter-totter.
Posted by grrlTravels at November 29, 2004 4:15 PMI think the real argument against the harlequin or any of that type of romance (esp. for a 13 yr old) was the - eh hem - sex, but no one was going to actually SAY that to us, so we got the "expectation argument."
I say, "we" but i never got the argument, my grandmom got me hooked. It started with Barbara Cartland (no sex).