Regarding Old Gregg and Christmas Cheer
So let's talk about Old Gregg. Google it if you need to. It's fine - I'll wait.
In 2005 the British comedy series "The Mighty Boosh" released an episode titled "The Legend of Old Gregg", featuring a scaly manfish named Old Gregg who kidnaps a man, brings him back to his cave, and tries to drunken him up so that they will fall in love. The man he's kidnapped, however, really just wants to leave. He's found himself in a situation that he's not entirely sure how to get himself out of, and in spite of the fact that he's scared for his life, he keeps a calm face and exchanges pleasantries, offering excuses for why he'd love to stay, but really can't:
"I've got meetings, and a friend of mine's waiting for me, so..."
"Are you free Thursday at all? You know, I'm a busy man..."
It gets awkward really fast - and that's part of the comedy of it, to be honest - but personally I've always found it hard to see as funny, because for me parts of it are a little too familiar.
Once upon a time, half a lifetime ago, I ran into a girl from high school while downtown and ended up missing the last bus home because I didn't know how to be impolite enough to get it through to her that I was not comfortable. I ended up following her to a liquor store (where she bribed the clerk to not ID her) and then back to her aunt's cigarette-smoke-filled apartment with peeling wallpaper and too few windows.
She told me that I was handsome and that she needed a man like me in her life; I told her that I was flattered, but that I was currently in a relationship and as a result would not be able to fill that role. What I really wanted to say was how uncomfortable I was and how my lack of experience with people who consumed alcohol or being stranded downtown in the middle of the night was filling me with the desire to just run away and hide and cry. But that wasn't an option because I didn't know how she would react.
It was January. If she took it badly, the best case scenario was that I would end out alone in the cold, in downtown in the middle of the night with no way home. But I didn't know her all that well, and she had been drinking, and... my mind was filled with nebulous thoughts about how it was possible that something even worse could potentially happen.
And so I was polite. I told her that I was tired and needed to be up in the morning. I told her how my parents would worry about me. I told her that I had promised my girlfriend that I would call her when I got home, and that she was undoubtedly wondering where I was and if I was safe. But she didn't take the hint. She told me that everything was fine, and that I shouldn't leave, and that it was cold out, and that I could get home in the morning when the busses started to run again.
I remember it as being a weird back-and-forth between the two of us: Me trying to appear casual, giving some polite excuse for why I should leave; her responding with a statement of why I should stay that probably would have been vaguely reassuring if it weren't for the fact that I was screaming in terror inside; repeat.
I don't remember what the right combination of words were that eventually got me home, but I got out and I got home and I literally cried myself to sleep that night.
I've grown a lot. I've experienced a lot more. I'm confident in saying that I would be a lot more comfortable navigating a situation such as that today than I was back on that cold January night. None of that stops me from still having nightmares that reference back to the events of that evening.
And so that's why I avoid watching Old Gregg. That's why I'm more prone to shuddering with discomfort than I am to laughing at his humor. It reminds me of a time when I was scared and uncomfortable and trapped in a situation that I didn't know how to escape.
I am a while male. I am six feet and five inches tall. I don't know how to fight, but I have enough reach and momentum that my inexperience doesn't stop me entirely from being dangerous or intimidating. When I think about how uncomfortable I was back there, I cannot help but realize how much worse it would have been if I was smaller, if I was more timid, or if I had been born a gender that is encouraged from day one to exhibit social behaviors that are even more meek and placating than the ones that I had at the time.
...Or if the person that I was trying to placate had been of a gender that's known to occasionally get mad and beat that shit out of people for rejecting them.
It makes me realize, doubtlessly, that there are people in this world who probably have more reason to be triggered when watching "The Legend of Old Gregg" than I do. People who have found themselves in situations like the one I described more than just the few times that I have; people who found themselves trapped and maybe were not able to escape as cleanly as I did. People who hear that back-and-forth of placating excuses and rapey smugness and are instantly thrown back to relive traumatic events of years-gone-by that will always be there, lurking in the back of their brains, waiting to remind them that when the shit hits the fan, they are little more than weak and powerless.
...people who are likely offended at the thought that I managed to to go through so little compared to what they have, and yet have the audacity let it cause me to be discomforted by ten minutes of awkward television.
I guess the best thing about Old Gregg is that it's avoidable. No one really has to watch it. It's not as if it's something that gets played regularly or that might jump out at you in the middle of something else that you're enjoying. It's not as if it's a holiday tradition that gets broadcast again and again, year after year, jumping out at you when you're in public and causing all of those memories to resurface when you need to maintain an outward appearance of calm because you're surrounded by strangers who are bright and joyous for the season, doing their holiday shopping.
Okay, so maybe I lied. This was never really me wanting to talk about Old Gregg. This was always about how and why I honestly dislike and avoid the song "Baby it's Cold Outside" and how I can understand that other people might be massively uncomfortable with it as well.
I understand that when it was originally written, it was with the intent of depicting a woman who wanted to stay, but was constrained by societal expectations that prevented her from doing so without first putting up a facade of rejections and misdirections. I've read brilliant essays explaining the details and nuances from the lyrics and explaining their every subtlety. And knowing what I know, I'll admit that the song really, REALLY is quite clever and well-crafted.
But when it comes on over the speakers in a busy grocery store while I'm perusing the juice selection in isle five, that doesn't stop it's words from yanking me straight out of the holiday cheer and bringing me right back to that night when I was young, and frightened, and trapped. And so very alone.
I'm not arguing that the song should be destroyed - stricken from the record never to be heard again. I'm not saying that people are bad for enjoying it and seeking it out to listen to during this time of year. But I am saying that with the changes that our society has underwent in the years since its release resulting in its message having become muddied and unclear to one who is not familiar with its background and the nuances that drove its message, maybe it's time for it to be retired from regular rotation.
In 2005 the British comedy series "The Mighty Boosh" released an episode titled "The Legend of Old Gregg", featuring a scaly manfish named Old Gregg who kidnaps a man, brings him back to his cave, and tries to drunken him up so that they will fall in love. The man he's kidnapped, however, really just wants to leave. He's found himself in a situation that he's not entirely sure how to get himself out of, and in spite of the fact that he's scared for his life, he keeps a calm face and exchanges pleasantries, offering excuses for why he'd love to stay, but really can't:
"I've got meetings, and a friend of mine's waiting for me, so..."
"Are you free Thursday at all? You know, I'm a busy man..."
It gets awkward really fast - and that's part of the comedy of it, to be honest - but personally I've always found it hard to see as funny, because for me parts of it are a little too familiar.
Once upon a time, half a lifetime ago, I ran into a girl from high school while downtown and ended up missing the last bus home because I didn't know how to be impolite enough to get it through to her that I was not comfortable. I ended up following her to a liquor store (where she bribed the clerk to not ID her) and then back to her aunt's cigarette-smoke-filled apartment with peeling wallpaper and too few windows.
She told me that I was handsome and that she needed a man like me in her life; I told her that I was flattered, but that I was currently in a relationship and as a result would not be able to fill that role. What I really wanted to say was how uncomfortable I was and how my lack of experience with people who consumed alcohol or being stranded downtown in the middle of the night was filling me with the desire to just run away and hide and cry. But that wasn't an option because I didn't know how she would react.
It was January. If she took it badly, the best case scenario was that I would end out alone in the cold, in downtown in the middle of the night with no way home. But I didn't know her all that well, and she had been drinking, and... my mind was filled with nebulous thoughts about how it was possible that something even worse could potentially happen.
And so I was polite. I told her that I was tired and needed to be up in the morning. I told her how my parents would worry about me. I told her that I had promised my girlfriend that I would call her when I got home, and that she was undoubtedly wondering where I was and if I was safe. But she didn't take the hint. She told me that everything was fine, and that I shouldn't leave, and that it was cold out, and that I could get home in the morning when the busses started to run again.
I remember it as being a weird back-and-forth between the two of us: Me trying to appear casual, giving some polite excuse for why I should leave; her responding with a statement of why I should stay that probably would have been vaguely reassuring if it weren't for the fact that I was screaming in terror inside; repeat.
I don't remember what the right combination of words were that eventually got me home, but I got out and I got home and I literally cried myself to sleep that night.
I've grown a lot. I've experienced a lot more. I'm confident in saying that I would be a lot more comfortable navigating a situation such as that today than I was back on that cold January night. None of that stops me from still having nightmares that reference back to the events of that evening.
And so that's why I avoid watching Old Gregg. That's why I'm more prone to shuddering with discomfort than I am to laughing at his humor. It reminds me of a time when I was scared and uncomfortable and trapped in a situation that I didn't know how to escape.
I am a while male. I am six feet and five inches tall. I don't know how to fight, but I have enough reach and momentum that my inexperience doesn't stop me entirely from being dangerous or intimidating. When I think about how uncomfortable I was back there, I cannot help but realize how much worse it would have been if I was smaller, if I was more timid, or if I had been born a gender that is encouraged from day one to exhibit social behaviors that are even more meek and placating than the ones that I had at the time.
...Or if the person that I was trying to placate had been of a gender that's known to occasionally get mad and beat that shit out of people for rejecting them.
It makes me realize, doubtlessly, that there are people in this world who probably have more reason to be triggered when watching "The Legend of Old Gregg" than I do. People who have found themselves in situations like the one I described more than just the few times that I have; people who found themselves trapped and maybe were not able to escape as cleanly as I did. People who hear that back-and-forth of placating excuses and rapey smugness and are instantly thrown back to relive traumatic events of years-gone-by that will always be there, lurking in the back of their brains, waiting to remind them that when the shit hits the fan, they are little more than weak and powerless.
...people who are likely offended at the thought that I managed to to go through so little compared to what they have, and yet have the audacity let it cause me to be discomforted by ten minutes of awkward television.
I guess the best thing about Old Gregg is that it's avoidable. No one really has to watch it. It's not as if it's something that gets played regularly or that might jump out at you in the middle of something else that you're enjoying. It's not as if it's a holiday tradition that gets broadcast again and again, year after year, jumping out at you when you're in public and causing all of those memories to resurface when you need to maintain an outward appearance of calm because you're surrounded by strangers who are bright and joyous for the season, doing their holiday shopping.
Okay, so maybe I lied. This was never really me wanting to talk about Old Gregg. This was always about how and why I honestly dislike and avoid the song "Baby it's Cold Outside" and how I can understand that other people might be massively uncomfortable with it as well.
I understand that when it was originally written, it was with the intent of depicting a woman who wanted to stay, but was constrained by societal expectations that prevented her from doing so without first putting up a facade of rejections and misdirections. I've read brilliant essays explaining the details and nuances from the lyrics and explaining their every subtlety. And knowing what I know, I'll admit that the song really, REALLY is quite clever and well-crafted.
But when it comes on over the speakers in a busy grocery store while I'm perusing the juice selection in isle five, that doesn't stop it's words from yanking me straight out of the holiday cheer and bringing me right back to that night when I was young, and frightened, and trapped. And so very alone.
I'm not arguing that the song should be destroyed - stricken from the record never to be heard again. I'm not saying that people are bad for enjoying it and seeking it out to listen to during this time of year. But I am saying that with the changes that our society has underwent in the years since its release resulting in its message having become muddied and unclear to one who is not familiar with its background and the nuances that drove its message, maybe it's time for it to be retired from regular rotation.