Copywriting. Creative Direction. Branding. Content. I've got your words.

Yooooo. Let's get LIT.

   
  
 
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    (NOT my house. NOT my lights. Just so we're clear.)

(NOT my house. NOT my lights. Just so we're clear.)

As I sit in the Kwam's Rant world headquarters (my house) in my palatial c-level suite (my closet-less home office), I'm staring out at a bunch of net lights on the front bushes, a solid quarter of which are dark, a third of which are blinking, and the rest? Who the hell knows?

Then came my holiday epiphany.

Lights suck. They don't F'ing work. I don't care if you're hanging them on some 1-foot tree in your office or decking out the McMansion (that coincidentally is worth 1/4 what you paid for it), lights don't work.

If you want them to blink, they stay solid. If you want them to stay solid, they blink. The one little extra bulb with the red paint on it? Just an Edisonian placebo. It controls nothing. It makes no difference.

Icicle lights take at least a month of hanging before they actually look like icicles, though I personally have never seen glow-in-the-dark icicles. I actually heard a neighbor talking about how "real" they look. Icicle LIGHTS? What, they look like real lights? Because they don't look like real icicles. Maybe in Chernobyl?

They'll all light up until you've finished stapling them to your house while precariously hanging off a ladder 2 stories off the ground, then go dim in the time it takes for you to put said ladder away. I swear, in my whole 34.75 years of life, I've NEVER seen a complete string of lit lights. Not in the rich neighborhoods, not in the Macy's parade, NOWHERE.

You can avoid going outside to hang lights altogether by either hiring someone to do it, or changing religions for a month. In this financial climate, if you have enough to hire someone to string up lights for you, I want to take my shoe off and hit you. And as for the religious thing, you may give up the lights, but in at least one case, you just bought yourself 7 MORE days of presents -- and a circumcision if you haven't had one. Ugh. Makes the lights not seem so bad, eh?

  Oh, to hell with this. 

Oh, to hell with this. 

You can buy whatever box, roller, or clips you think will help, but sometime around 10/31, a chemical reaction takes place on the subatomic level that causes any string of lights to congeal into a tangled ball of green electrical wire with the uncanny ability to eat an entire weekend.

In this day and age, you still have to THOROUGHLY wash your hands after putting up the crappy lights because they're covered in LEAD. Yeah, so don't go pinching any babies' cheeks after your done, chappy.

So after you're done untangling, checking, hanging, and troubleshooting, you get to take them all down again. Yay. Outside, that usually means colder, icier, more dangerous weather conditions than when you hung them, at the end of an already too-short holiday vacation. But I suppose falling off a ladder is a good way to get an extra week off.

That's the rant.

Originally published on my old humor blog, Kwam's Rant. 

Kwame DeRoche