It seems like some people have a hard time letting go of the past. Perhaps they just can’t find it, in their regular sized hearts, to forgive and trust the odd looking green beast in a Santa Claus suit who once stole Christmas from a town of innocents.
As he has every year for the past decade, The Grinch held his annual toy drive to collect presents for needy children. Once again, not a single gift was donated to the cause. Honestly, though, do you blame people for not wanting to hand over a beautifully wrapped gift to a creature with a track record of running off with presents?
“It’s totally my fault,” The Grinch readily admits to this Modern Philosopher. “I made my bed and now I have to lie in it knowing that when I go down to the living room, I’m going to find the Christmas tree has no gifts under it.”
Why even bother holding the toy drive year after year if he knows that he’s going to leave with a sack bereft of toys? “It’s part of my penance,” he explains somberly. “Every year, I allow myself to hope that people will accept that I have changed. Believe me, the irony of it all isn’t lost on me. I hope for brightly wrapped presents under the tree and end up with absolutely nothing. It’s a penalty befitting a Grinch.”
The Grinch says that the public humiliation is all a part of the process for him, and he believes that people have a right to not trust him. “I know I’ll forever be scorned, and never fully welcomed back into polite society. That’s why I’ve never given up my cave…it’s easier to stay up there, in absolute solitude, meditating on my sins.”
He told me that occasionally Charlie Sheen will visit the cave and give him a pep talk about needing to force feed a new persona down the public’s throat. “Charlie means well, but what he went through, the things he did…they’re nowhere near as horrible as what I’ve done. I don’t think my life has an ‘Anger Management’ chapter in its future.”
After a little prodding and several glasses of spiked eggnog, my creepy green friend did admit that he anonymously sends several large money orders every Christmas to various charities. “I’m set for life with the money I’ve made from the rights to my story,” he slurred as he went for his eighth glass of nog. “I know they probably wouldn’t accept the money if they knew it was from me, so I send it anonomonominously (like I said, he was on glass number eight of the stuff). My heart, the one that can shrink and grow depending on my mood? Well, that heart grows eleventeen sizes every time I make one of those donations. I know that a deserving kiddo is going to wake up to a much happier Christmas. That’s all I need.”
I felt sorry for The Grinch, but I still didn’t run out and buy a present for this toy drive. In his condition, he probably would’ve tried to drink it.
So what do you think, Modern Philosophers? Can The Grinch’s sins ever be forgiven? Have we held a grudge against him for too long? Are we making him suffer for that horrible movie they made about him starring Jim Carrey? Would you ever welcome him into your home at Christmas? What exactly is a Grinch?
Send me your thoughts. I’m going to ponder on all this as I enjoy another glass of this wonderful eggnog. Let me know if you want the recipe…