The Story of the Holidays, a Biblical fan-fiction

The ancient histories of the Hebrews recount that, during the persecutions of Antiochus IV, a small contingent of the Maccabees retreated into the deserts of Medina to hide from the Syrian army. Not finding any suitable caves, and with night approaching, the rebels looked in vain for shelter. Tiring of his search, one of their number called Jacob produced from his pack a bag of trail mix from the Temple, bearing the seal of the High Priest Yochanan. By chance, or fate, a single seed from the trail mix fell to the ground as he was eating. During the night, the seed grew and grew and grew until by morning the Maccabees found they were sleeping in the shadow of a great cedar of Lebanon. Marveling at this miracle, and at the fact that anyone within miles would see it instantly in the desert, the Maccabees set holy fire to the tree and went on their way. But the tree, which should have burned down in an instant, burned through the night. The Syrian army finally caught up and came to gaze at this marvel, which they did not understand. And it came to pass, that the Maccabees slew the Syrians by attacking from ambush, with a very great slaughter surpassing that of Gideon. After slaying the Syrians till they were consumed, the Maccabees figured amongst themselves that the tree had burned for eight days and nights. This was the second miracle. On the eighth and final day, the burning tree spoke to Jacob. This was the third miracle, and this is what the tree said: "You guys are all too hung up on this worship stuff. Verily, global warming is gonna be a much bigger problem later on than this whole business about not eating pork," said the Lord. "What would you have me do, oh Lord?" asked Jacob. "Wow, you're totally not listening," said the Lord. Whereupon the tree burned in three colors: Red for the struggle of the Maccabees, green for the future, and black for the people of Israel. "Why black for the people of Israel? Aren't we white?" someone said. "Shut up, Scott of Ridley. You know not of these things," sayeth the Lord, "Truly I say to you, that every man is black in his heart, and in my eyes you are all of one tribe. You gotta have unity, and self-determination, and purpose, and faith and a few other things. Just make it up as you go along," sayeth the Lord. And with that the tree flared once more and burnt out. "That was pretty legit," said Muhammad, "But we've still got a war to win. I have heard news of a child born of a virgin, who is said to be the Son of God. Surely with this child in our army, we will be undefeated in our conflict with the Syrians." "Whoa whoa whoa," said Jacob, "Since when is this camel trader offering battlefield advice?" "Since I gave him the rundown," said the Archangel Gabriel, appearing through a part in the clouds. He sat down with the rest of the Maccabees to listen to Muhammad's plan, and to give him a fist-bump. "So, I call it the hajj," said Mohammad. "The what?" said Jacob. "Sorry, I had a seed stuck in my throat. Hajj, haaajj. There, I got it. Anyway, my plan is a great pilgrimage to the Holy Land. There we will see a Star of David that will point us to this holy child. Thence we march on Jerusalem, for the purposes of taking all of their sacred oil." "Dy-no-MITE!" said Maulana Karenga. And so, Muhammad, Jacob, and Maulana Karenga brought gifts to the infant, whose name they learned was Jesus. And the child's first words were, "Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword." And, lo, the Wise Men were freaked out, for they were not expecting such badassery. And so the wrath of the Lord descended upon the foul Syrian king Antiochus IV, and his lands were taken, and his oil, and his women. There was a great feast where everyone enjoyed themselves, and much debauchery, and many regrettable things were done to Antiochus IV, his lands, his oil, and his women. That night, drunk and weary, the Wise Men decided to celebrate their victory over Antiochus with a big feast every year, but they couldn't decide on a name, so they just called it the Holidays.

Movie Review: Grand Budapest Hotel

So, not really a costume drama, but this one struck a chord with me. The other day I had a dream that I was Lobby Boy at the Hotel. A stirring piece, and one that specifically focuses on the use of set design, props, and costumes to overcome the essential dreariness of the 20th century, the essential brutality of man's existence. A decadent cream puff dessert is not something excessive and vacuous; in Wes Anderson's hands it is a weapon against fascism. So too are uniforms with tails, top hats, and expensive colognes. Voltaire's quip that one can do without the necessities of life, if only one has the luxuries is true for nobody as much as Gustave M. After watching Barry Lyndon, I felt no movie I saw that year would equal it. Now I know that I manage to see about one of these decent flicks a year. I really must set my standards higher.