Picture of the Day: Santa Buses in Pohang

Santa bus drivers
Santa bus driversBus drivers in Santa Claus costumes wave in Pohang, 374 km southeast of Seoul, on Dec. 11, 2019, as their bus company decided to operate four Santa buses from Dec. 16-25. (Yonhap)
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setnaffa
4 years ago

Imagine that. Everybody celebrating Jesus’ birthday but ignoring Him.

Both Linus and Lucy lamented this fact long ago in A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965). Linus: “Christmas is . . . getting too commercial.” Lucy: “We all know that Christmas is a big commercial racket. It’s run by a big eastern syndicate, you know.” Charles M. Schulz, A Charlie Brown Christmas, directed by Bill Melendez, aired December 9, 1965, on CBS.

ChickenHead
ChickenHead
4 years ago

On a positive note, we no longer celebrate Halloween by sacrificing a first-born child at the stone idol of Crom Cruach.

And at least America got a rather Jesus-like Santa instead of the Krampus.

setnaffa o'kim
setnaffa o'kim
4 years ago

The Irish have always been “a mite touchy” about their religious predilections… You can tell who they are by asking what colors are on the Irish Flag (or if they have a “26+6=1” bumper sticker on their car). I’m pretty certain Christmas was about a different event than the pagan thing CH mentioned; but the violent “shopping” on Black Friday reminds me we don’t all have he same God…

There was a song on mp3 dot com a few years back (between 1996 and 2003, lost track of when):

Midnight Ulster Ride
By The Black Velvet Band (New London, WI)

On a goodwill trip to Ulster just to show we’d no bad feelings
But a couple of Yanks on holiday in a hired car a-wheeling,
Crossed the river Foyle at Lifford, waved at British armored vans,
Gonna spend the evening pleasantly with a music of Strabane

In the glare of a hundred streetlights though, the pubs were dark and mute
No place to eat, no music sweet from the fiddle or the flute,
So we headed for Dungannon in the blowin’ Ulster rains,
But we lost our way near Castlederg in Tyrone’s varicose veins.

And somewhere near the Meenbog Hill we stopped to navigate
When a man came out and he had to shout and he saw our license plate,
“I’ll tell you boys,” says he. “You’re suspect both I fear,
You’re a bloody long whack from the tourist track. And we don’t like strangers here!”

“So what do you want ya bomber boys? Where do you think you’re going?
Turn about, go back, take a left at the bridge, turn right at the ogham stone
Ten miles to Kesh on the Ederney road-we got troubles of our own-
Take the A47 at Lough Erne Shores, get the hell out of Magh-Tyrone!”

Not a light from the Gunnery Hill nor the Castle of Dromore,
We drove through darkened Drumskinny, and silent Seskinore
Got stopped at a British checkpoint on this raggley-tangled snare,
And the Sergeant leaned into the car with an angry, menacing glare.

“So what do you want ya bomber boys? Where do you think you’re going?
Turn about, go back, take a left at the bridge, turn right at the ogham stone
Ten miles to Kesh on the Ederney road-we got troubles of our own-
Take the A47 at Lough Erne Shores, get the hell out of Magh-Tyrone!”

Well, we tried to take this kind advice–such a night to be a tourist!
But instead of Lough Erne’s welcome shores, we found the Killiter Forest.
It was then we drew bad company, a 20-car parade
For stormed by scores of Loyalists, shook down in the gloomy glade

“So what do you want ya bomber boys? Where do you think you’re going?
Turn about, go back, take a left at the bridge, turn right at the ogham stone
Ten miles to Kesh on the Ederney road-we got troubles of our own-
Take the A47 at Lough Erne Shores, get the hell out of Magh-Tyrone!”

On the road again and closer then; but the gas was almost gone,
Rode across the border in the hired Ford, didn’t stop ’til BallyShannon
So welcome was Belleek me boys, that it wasn’t for the chinas,
No room, no grub, but at Sweeney’s Pub we cured the wet night dryness.

“So what do you want ya bomber boys? Where do you think you’re going?
Turn about, go back, take a left at the bridge, turn right at the ogham stone
Ten miles to Kesh on the Ederney road-we got troubles of our own-
Take the A47 at Lough Erne Shores, get the hell out of Magh-Tyrone!”

So listen up you touring Yanks who want a midnight Ulster ride:
Find a B&B in Donegal and spend your nights inside.
Get a Letterkenny Pizza, couple pints of Smithick’s Ale,
Tour Mulroy Bay and Highglenfey but stay on the tourist trail.

“So what do you want ya bomber boys? Where do you think you’re going?
Turn about, go back, take a left at the bridge, turn right at the ogham stone
Ten miles to Kesh on the Ederney road-we got troubles of our own-
Take the A47 at Lough Erne Shores, get the hell out of Magh-Tyrone!
Take the A47 at Lough Erne Shores, get the hell out of Magh-Tyrone!”

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