Skip to main content

Advice for Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer

I hate Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.  Not the actual reindeer, not the character Rudolph, but the whole story, the whole message behind it. 

It goes something like this: Rudolph is born.  Rudolph looks different.  Rudolph is made to feel like a freak.  Rudolph is not protected by the very people that are supposed to protect him from shit like this.  Rudolph can not face the hatred and runs away.  Rudolph then finds some other freaks that have been likewise ridiculed into exile.  Rudolph returns home where suddenly he finds himself celebrated because the assholes that ran him out have found a use for him.

I hate this story.  The other asshole reindeer never have any self discovery, like maybe they shouldn't be fucking with people that are different.  No, they just realize that even a freak like Rudolph can be useful.

It ends on what seems like a high note:  Rudolph is rightfully presented as a hero, and the others are all contrite.

You had better sit down Rudolph; I have some bad news for you.  Next year when there isn't any fog, who do you think is going to be leading the sleigh?  You?  No, sorry, you are valued only as far as you are found useful.  You, my friend, are still a freak.  They might tolerate you for now, but you will never really be one of them.  No fog? Guess what? You are going to find yourself back on the Island of Misfit Toys hanging out, crying and wishing you were normal.

My advice is this: next time the fog rolls in, you tell Santa if he wanted your help, maybe he should have watched out for you when you were being bullied into running away from the only home you have ever known.  You tell Santa maybe he shouldn't have been complicit in driving you out into the frozen wastelands of the North Pole to freeze and starve to death.  You tell Santa, listen you fat bearded fuck, where were you before I was useful to you?  Where were you before I had to prove my value?  You tell Santa that if he can't take better care of his charges, even those that are different, maybe he shouldn't be allowed to be in charge.  You tell Santa, sorry, pal, you're on your own.  I hope you crash into the Atlantic and drown.

Go back to the Island of Misfit Toys, Rudolph.  Those other asshole deer can fly blind from now on.  Those other deer can take their reindeer games and shove them up their collective reindeer asses.  Find some other freaks and build a life, make up your own games, live well, and tell the normals to get fucked.

You have intrinsic value, Rudolph, regardless of what they might say.  You don't have anything to prove to those shitbags.  Believe that, and maybe you will find some semblance of peace.

Good Luck,

RP

  

Comments

  1. Hi Ralph it's Connie. This is your first blog I haven't liked and disagreed with! First, way too much profanity for such a great writer as yourself. Rudolph persevered despite all the ridicule about his nose. The majority of us have been picked on for various reasons; too tall too short, too skinny too fat, glasses, no glasses, big nose, pig nose, hair, no hair,etc. it's those of us who rise above the storm like Rudolph who are the true stars! 

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I think the real issue is the lack of support from the older "grown" characters... Yes people do come out of these experiences wiser and possibly kinder but i do think that usually happens when there is support from the people who are caring for you. If you are raised by complete a- holes ... You may actually grow to be insecure and hating yourself. Definitely Rudolf the red nose reindeer is not the greatest learning tool for kids to watch. And of course Rudolf would do what Santa wanted.. He was seeking his approval from the very begining.. Poor little bugger.

      Delete
    2. Yeah I am a bit of a sweary writer. My Mom told me that swearing just gives someone a chance to not listen to what you have to say. I clearly never put that into practice.

      My intention more than anything was to say that if people don't accept you for who you are, you do not have to prove anything to them. They are the ones with the problem not you.

      I agree that Rudolph is a hero in the story and he certainly takes a higher road than I suggest he do in the piece. I also agree that there is something to be said for perseverance in the face of idiot persecution.

      Wait until you read what I have to say about Grandpa Joe from Charlie and the Chocolate factory!

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Cuckoo! Cuckoo!

So I find myself wanting to write about politics, which I hate.  I want to write a scathing review of our political system, and the douchey asshats that we have elected to represent us, because it is something that vexes and frustrates me on the regular, and what I do is write about things that bother me and then I feel a little better.  It has worked well for me and my personal well being; just doing this blog and airing all my personal laundry for all to see has been as cathartic as anything.

But I hate politics.  I think that it is intentionally divisive, designed to make us see the world in an "us vs them" mindset, to see the whole world and our place in it as sides in a game, a bloody and terrible game.  It makes it easy to start painting the opposition as something other than we are, which in turn makes it much easier to think terrible things about them, that they are racist idiots, that they are stupid takers, it makes it easy to say awful things to them, especially f…

We Would Be a Song

I seem to define my life with soundtracks, playlists that encompass epochs or periods of change or development.  My earliest music was my mother's: Van Halen and Judas Priest, Def Leppard and AC/DC.  I remember a friend of hers explaining to second grade Ralph that the big balls that Angus was singing about were parties, but even then I didn't buy it.  My teen years were heavy on grunge, Nirvana and Alice in Chains and Soundgarden, and that was the first time that music ever felt like it was mine, that I discovered by myself or through the radio, or like minded friends, that was the first time that I took it and owned it and loved it, and even now I'll hear Black Hole Sun or Rooster or Smells Like Teen Spirit on the radio and back I go.

In the fifth grade, I moved to Kelso, Washington. I want to say that it was hard, but what I remember mostly from childhood is just this sense of taking every day as it arrived.  What else do we have except our own experiences to measure thi…

Die Laughing

I want to die laughing.

I imagine it, this big final guffaw, watching a video of someone falling down or being attacked by a goose, just this terminal laughter, a giggle or a wheeze, that's the way to go out. We're all dying, just some of us faster than others, some are torn away and some drift off, but the destination is the same for each and every soul on this beautiful miserable planet.  Whether it be by accident or murdered by time, we are all on the same ride.

I want to be taken away by the Death of the Discworld, like I imagine Terry Pratchett did, the classic hooded skeleton, blue fire eyes.  On the Discworld, you pretty much always get what you expect; the afterlife is what you believe it to be.  I imagine Sir Terry, wherever he ended up, laughing his face off, turning his brilliance on the world itself, holding a funhouse mirror up to distort images into strange shapes, recognizable, but seen from a different perspective. Godspeed Sir Terry. Mind how you go, sir.

I want …