I'll Have A Shoe Christmas Without You
At the home of Rob Lowe's dour, Christmas-loving mother, Ma, Mrs. Rob Lowe, spawn of Rob Lowe, and Dalton, the selfless teacher who knows everyone, are joyously singing Christmas carols. I do not think I need to mention that this scene of joyous holiday celebration does not include Rob Lowe -- or at least, not initially. After learning how the excesses of the Endangered Species Act are ruining Christmas for everyone -- well, not the endangered species so much -- he eventually shows up, long after dinner has been served, so that his wife can stare daggers at him and his mom can once again express disappointment with the direction his life has taken. "Ordinary things, Robert," Mom's homily concludes. "Just simple everyday things. Your father missed out on so many of those things. He never shared those memories. And in the end... I think he would have liked to." Has anyone ever considered the possibility that Rob Lowe spends so much time at the office, his nose buried in case law and real estate brochures, because for those ten hours or so, nobody's spouting aphorisms and clarion calls for self-improvement in his general direction? This is my working theory, at any rate.
Back at the Andrews household, Maggie and Nathan are having a heart-to-hea-- okay, poor choice of words. Anyhow, Maggie compliments Nathan on his Christmas card, which features many angels on the cover. "I'm going to be seeing a lot of angels soon," Maggie says. Especially if you're bodily assumed into heaven, as we're all expecting you to be. Well, the two of them have an intense theological discussion about the nature of heaven and souls and the afterlife, and it's all very sad -- no really, it is -- except for this line: "It's not like [God] is taking me so much as He's receiving me in Heaven." Which makes God sound like some sort of celestial casino greeter, really -- "Hi, I'm God, welcome to Caesar's Palace Heaven. Just want to remind you that our Club members get 15 percent off at the buffet and that we've got the loosest slots in all of eternity. Freshen up that water for you? It's now a very subtle Bordeaux. No -- thank you." "Will God be mad at me if I told Him I didn't want Him to take you to heaven?" Nathan asks. Well, if you go by Old Testament God, then almost certainly. One day you're just minding your own business, then blammo -- pillar of salt! Better slaughter a fatted calf now, Nathan, just to stay on His good side.