Turning my thoughts towards the forthcoming Christmas season I am inclined to indulge my unfortunate habit of characterizing all I know or meet as characters from the multitudinous myths and tales, both fictional and non-fictional, surrounding the next forty days and nights. Point at hand, the Grinch.
The green cave dweller is something of a mystery, firstly in his exact relationship with the animal kingdom at large, if there are Miss, Missus and other Misters scattered around on mountains hither and thither, and secondly, and most importantly of all, if the word Grinch itself is a noun, verb, adverb, or indeed one of the marvelous and utterly necessary multiplicities. Theodor Seuss Geisel is of course the dude with all the pertinent answers, but because of his unfortunate departure for more peaceable climes in nineteen ninety-one the questions not only remain but multiply upon each rendition of poem or story, and of course projection of cartoon or movie.
The derivation of the beast is to this very day confused, being proclaimed a very rare ornithological specimen in ‘Scrambled Eggs Super’, then metamorphosing into a rather unpleasant and garbling sales person of questionable but certainly human configuration in ‘Hoobub and the Grinch’, till finally showing his true nature as the cat faced, potbellied, green furred, entirely naked master of Max the beagle in amongst other tales ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas’.
Mister Grinchs one abiding characteristic is his exceeding caustic personality, a degree of petulance and unpleasantness sufficient to make Ebenezer Scrooge, the other well remembered Christmas villain, seem almost passable pleasant.
Grinch like Scrooge suffers a late change of heart, learning the error of his ways whilst still retaining a certain grating nature. Both characterizations bear remarkable similarity to that individual we all know whose glass isn’t even half full, but entirely empty.
Lesson of the day, whatever the circumstances might be, don’t be a Grinch, ever.