The Nutcracker is a Christmas tradition - even if you haven't seen it or know the plot, you've probably heard its music by this point in your life. It's a German story that tells the classic tale of a dramatic uncle crashing the holiday party, using magic to cause a small war between wooden dolls and sexy rats, and then gaslighting his niece with sugar. My homeboy Tchaikovsky was like 'oh that's sick as hell' and composed a two-act ballet about it in 1892. People haven't stopped talking about it since.

Here is an abridged version of The Nutcracker in which I will highlight all the juicy bits and evaluate key characters as they're introduced. You just have to promise to listen to a random song from The Nutcracker as you read this to make sure you're in the right headspace.

ACT I

Clara Stahlbaum (aka Marie or Masha, depending which ballet company is performing)

Morality Alignment: Neutral Good, the most boring alignment

Anarchist?: She'd probably pay taxes if she could but she's like 12

Hot or Not?: She's a Child

The first act of the ballet opens on the Stahlbaum's annual Christmas party. Clara, her younger brother Fritz, and their parents are welcoming all their guests to their Christmas party. It's all very wholesome and, honestly, boring. The main point of this whole scene is to introduce Clara, who is a little girl with not a lot of personality. She's the Bella Swan of The Nutcracker.

The party scene goes on for like ten minutes (kids get gifts and adults dance and drink) before introducing my FAVORITE character of the whole production:

Uncle Drosselmeyer (though sometimes he's Grandfather)

Morality Alignment: Chaotic Neutral, this man lives for the drama

Anarchist?: Abso-fuckin-lutely

Hot or Not?: Yeah this twink absolutely fucks

There are three things that the ballet lets you know immediately when this character comes on stage: 1) he is the kooky inventor/uncle of the Stahlbaums, 2) he's just a little fruity, and 3) he IS the drama. He brings his unrelated nephew/legal ward to the party and gives his niece the infamous Nutcracker doll. (Spoiler alert, his nephew IS the Nutcracker in most productions). Clara and Fritz fight over the Nutcracker, Fritz breaks it, Drosselmeyer fixes the toy and dances with the housekeeper, and as the party dies down, he waves his limp little wrists over all the toys and the tree. I firmly believe that this is somehow Tchaikovsky's self-insert character.

Anyway, the party is over and everyone goes to bed! Except for Clara, because we have a story to get to. She sneaks downstairs to check on her poor Nutcracker and discovers that uh oh! There are rats dancing everywhere and, as the clock strikes midnight, everything is growing around her! Or she's shrinking. My boy Drosselmeyer freezes time and runs around the stage swishing his extremely billowy cape (like the absolute Icon he is), and when time unfreezes there is a full blown battle happening between the evil dancing rats and a bunch of toy soldiers who have come to life. The two factions are lead by:

The Rat/Mouse King

Morality Alignment: Lawful Evil, he's a monarch

Anarchist?: He is a King. He's also an amalgamation of rats. Google a picture of an actual rat king if you want nightmares.

Hot or Not?: ...okay he's still kind of hot

The Nutcracker Prince

Morality Alignment: Ehhh Lawful Good

Anarchist?: Okay he is technically a prince but he IS fighting to topple an unjust monarch so maybe

Hot or Not?: Look he's also like a Teen at most so N/A. I didn't think this category through, obviously.

There is a long and kind of tame battle dance that follows. The tin soldiers play by the rules of engagement but narratively the rats disregard the rules and all hope looks lost for the good guys. UNTIL! Clara, seeing her poor Nutcracker about to beef it, runs into the battle and whacks the Rat King. (Well, sometimes it's a whack with her shoe, sometimes she literally stabs him with his sword. Once again, she's 12). Regardless of what happens, she kills a rat and saves the Nutcracker, whose ugly head is carried off by the tin soldiers. He had a normal human head underneath so it's fine, don't worry about it.

The end of the first act involves the Nutcracker thanking Clara and ordering a magic sleigh to carry her to his magical realm. There is also a small snow storm. Large quantities of plastic, glitter, and other hazardous 'snow' materials rain down on the poor corps de ballet dancers during this number and there's usually at least one ballerina down by the end of it. They cut to intermission so they can sweep the stage.

ACT II

The most important thing to understand about the Nutcracker from this point forward is that the plot is essentially over. There was a party, a battle, and now the second act exists for all the dancing that you came here for. The Nutcracker and Clara arrive in his kingdom, The Kingdom of Sweets (not very creative name scheme here), and all of his international candy subjects do a lot of dancing to thank Clara for saving their prince. This part of the article is gonna be a straight run-down/rating of those dancers, I guess. Format? I don't know her.

Spanish/Chocolate

Morality Alignment: Lawful Neutral, they're like 50% cocoa from a non-slave sourced chocolate company after Twitter cancelled them

Anarchist?: Anti-government but pro-bullfighting

Hot or Not?: Mucho caliente

Overall Rating: 6/10. It's a good dance, a great song, but it IS Spain, and they super DID colonize my ancestors.

Arabian/Coffee

Morality Alignment: True Neutral

Anarchist?: Yes

Hot or Not?: Was this dance part of my sexual awakening? Maybe. Anyway yes this number is rated NC-17 but also it's not.

Overall Rating: 9/10 for the 16 count slow slide into the splits

Chinese/Tea

Morality Alignment: Lawful Neutral. It's the shortest one, I think, but they stick to what they know.

Anarchist?: Probably not. Racist? Probably yes.

Hot or Not?: Idk but it's definitely problematic

Overall Rating: 3/10, could be less stereotypical. Music's cute, tho.

Russian/Candy Canes

Morality Alignment: Chaotic Good for all the jumps and twirls

Anarchist?: This dance is the Communist Manifesto

Hot or Not?: Burning (like my thighs after performing this)

Overall Rating: 100/10, makes me want to move to Russia. Pyotr knew what he was doing when he wrote this one.

French/Marzipan

Morality Alignment: Lawful Evil, they're French. (I love them, but they're French).

Anarchist?: ...it's France.

Hot or Not?: ...they're FRENCH. (yes, hot)

Overall Rating: 7/10, dancing shepherdesses are kinda boring but the costumes are always the best

Mother Ginger/Polichinelles

Morality Alignment: Chaotic Neutral, big Mormon vibes from Mother Ginger and her kids

Anarchist?: The kids are against their mother

Hot or Not?: Mother Ginger is a MILF

Overall Rating: 5/10, I did this dance for like 7 years and I got really sick of it by the time I was 12 but still short enough to fit under the skirt. (I have not grown since then, I could still fit under the skirt.)

Waltz of the Flowers

Morality Alignment: Neutral Evil, this dance is TOO DANG LONG to do en pointe

Anarchist?: I would overthrow a government after doing this number

Hot or Not?: The inherent sensuality of flowers is kinda present I guess

Overall Rating: 4/10, the music is beautiful but it also does put me to sleep

Sugar Plum Fairy and Her Cavalier

Morality Alignment: True Neutral, listen to the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy and tell me she's not a trickster fey

Anarchist?: the SPF and her boy toy are kinda in charge when the Nutcracker is gone but I can tell they want to overthrow the monarchy and establish a Candy Commune

Hot or Not?: Besides the Mouse King they're objectively the hottest characters. They're probably poly, also.

Overall Rating: 9/10, fun dances and also this means the show is almost over!

After everyone has done their little 'thank you for saving our Prince!' dances for Clara and the Nutcracker, they all come back on stage and do another little number and then we reach the absolute most buckwild part of the musical. Everyone waves and backs slowly off the stage, the Candy Land backdrop vanishes, and Clara...wakes up, holding her Nutcracker.

Excuse me, do you mean that this wasn't a magical ballet? A young girl didn't actually shrink, topple a totalitarian ruler, and get serenaded by every desert her parents had in their pantry??? The truth is, we honestly don't know. Most versions end with Clara as confused as the audience at this point. The one I performed in Tyler every year ended with Clara spinning in circles and Drosselmeyer swooshing his cape in the background, which did not clarify anything. Apparently, the original story ends with Clara and the Nutcracker riding a sleigh into the sunset, but ballet companies wanted more drama, which is what Tchaikovsky would've wanted.

And so ends the timeless tale of The Nutcracker. It's actually kind of dated in parts - all the girls are given dolls in the party scene and the boys are given swords, the entire Chinese number exists, etc - but every single ballet company performs it every year, and I love it a lot. It's a wonderful little sprinkle of Christmas magic, and I love seeing little kids dressed up excited to go to the ballet! It's so wholesome!

Also I'm sorry I called Mother Ginger a MILF. Happy Holidays!

Ed. Bigfoot in Bigfoot - written in Long Meter, and a meter is made up of feet, hence Bigfoot in Big Foot.

The other week I had the very distinct pleasure of being a groomsmen in one of my best friends' wedding. I got to drive my buddy to the venue, give a dumb little toast, and even play their first dance song on a weird and bad acoustic guitar while a crowd of people gazed on in confusion and my newly wedded pal danced to a very very sad Leonard Cohen song to celebrate his fresh nuptial bliss.

I celebrated his exciting new journey in a form that will surprise absolutely no one who has spent more than five minutes with me:

I drank a bottle of bourbon and started telling people at the wedding that I very sincerely do not believe in love. The responses to these drunken tirades (and I think the fact that I have to use tirades in the plural is the most painful part of this) varied from obviously bummed out to "hey weren't you the guy literally just on stage talking about how special their love is?"

I really did mean the toast. Watching those two start to date and then develop and grow and eventually agree to just do the rest of their lives together has been truly magical to witness. However, for some reason this display of organic and genuine I-choose-you-for-the-rest-of-my-life love elicited a very strange and uncalled for response from my famous alter ego: Whiskey Alex.

The next day I flew back to Montana and sat next to a very nice lady from Vermont who told me about her husband of forty years and their little plot of land that her grandsons used to run around on. It made me nostalgic for something that I hope to be able to live out in the future.

Admiral Overlord Spradling has done an excellent job in this issue of laying out the weird paradox of using Newsletter as a way to project diary thoughts despite the inherent backstabbing to your own internal intimacy that this creates. I just think that we all have a weird desire to share the fun things that happen to us. Sometimes those fun things are lists of ways to bypass Austin law to go running, and sometimes those things are being excited to fly to Bozeman to visit your grandson who used to run around in your yard in Vermont. You become so excited to share the gift of dancing with your new spouse to a sad song that you lose the little part of your brain that advises you against self-serving proclamations.

I feel explicitly grateful to have Newsletter as an outlet for the sharing of my own personal fun things like the fact that I moved back to Montana five months ago. Is good.

Finally Friday. I wake with my alarm, blasting digital jazz into the abyss. I let it play while I rise. This is good.

Music from cars in the parking lot adjacent to my bedroom wall drones. Construction shakes. Dogs bark. In comfort and peace, I prepare for the day. The microwave beeps four times every 30 seconds forever once the oatmeal is done. As I eat, something suddenly feels amiss. There is a lull in the noise outside. I instinctively throw my bowl to the ground, the ceramic crashing against the tile.

I step outside onto my patio and throw the door firmly shut. I call a friend. They don't answer. I switch to speaker phone and call another friend. I speak as loudly as possible, feeling my voice reverberate around the brick apartment walls which form a courtyard around me, causing a bird to fly.

There is a moment of panic when the car fails to start, the outside suddenly muted. I crank it again and it works. Relieved, I work the subwoofers extra hard for the commute. Work is blessedly chaotic. This is good.

When I arrive home at 10 it is dark. My roommates have already started the party and I work through the small crowd loitering outside the door, bellowing sturdy, monosyllabic greetings and dispensing high fives. They constitute my salvation. Inside the music is thumping. All is well. The neighbors complain. I pacify them with perfunctory apologies, but none of this will cease. They do not understand the stakes.

Hours later the time comes. I sit down at the three piece drum set, always standing ready in the dining room, an emergency container of pure, condensed sound and fury. I give it a rattle, dash, and bang. The glorious sound swirls through the entire complex. Dogs are barking. People are cheering. This is good. This is best.

All ends eventually. People trickle away or pass out. Car music from people loitering in the parking lot gradually trails into the distance. I am left alone with the music, droning aimlessly from the bluetooth sound bar. I am coming down.

What kind of a life is this really? Is this sustainable? I can't hide forever. One day I will slip up. One day the silence will find me. And with the silence will come that... thing.

Trembling, I down my drink and rip the speaker's cord out of the wall. With a pop, the quiet washes over me, ears ringing from vertigo.

I stand there in the dark. I can feel it coming. This is good.

From the shadows beside the fridge the beast emerges, every bit as dreadful and visceral as I remembered as a child.

Capricorn - Hey, Cap, it's okay. It's okay that you're thirsting over Yukon Cornelius this holiday season. He's sexy as hell. The way he just takes charge... uses his big axe... There's no shame in it.

Aquarius - You're having trouble getting into the Christmas spirit this year, Aquarius, and that is unacceptable. Have you tired singing some Christmas carols to your neighbors? Walk outside right now and stop once you get to the doorstep of the house nextdoor. Open your mouth and let out the most beautiful and festive scream you can muster! Try to get a few verses of Frosty the Snowman in there but no pressure. Words are hard.

Pisces - Pisces, your thoughts are more tangled up than your Christmas lights as you read this. Take some time to enjoy yourself with a glass of mulled wine, a warm blanket, and a copy of that classic Christmas tale, Sam the Winter Whale Whisperer. It's for sale on my website for a reasonable $49.99! Buy now! BUY IT. YOU HAVE TO BUY IT.

Aries - Feeling overstimulated this holiday season, Aries? Sit yourself down in front of the fire. Stare into the flames and think. Think about the passing of time and how no one man or beast is immune to the terrible knowledge of mortality. Think about how that knowledge begins to stir fear within you more and more each year. Don't forget to watch The Santa Claus with Tim Allen!

Taurus - You did an excellent job of present-purchasing this year, Taurus, and your loved ones will notice! In fact, they're going to be a little suspicious of how you managed to get them everything on their lists. It's time to run. Those sirens in the distance are for you and you're almost out of time. Your ugly, snitch of a cousin Frank told the police everything. Good luck and godspeed.

Gemini - Hey, Gem, it's okay. It's okay that you're thirsting over Bernard the Elf this holiday season. He's sexy as hell. The way he just takes charge... uses his big snow globe... There's no shame in it.

Cancer - Each and every snowflake is a unique and temporary creation, Cancer, unlike you. You're basic and eternal. You're so basic you've become unkillable. Nothing gold can stay but that's fine because you're silver at best. Something something Silver and Gold by Burl Ives. And I love that for you!

Leo - Leo, let's be honest: you deserve coal on Christmas morning. Everyone loves you but boy howdy you really mucked it up this year, bud. Remember when you set that old man's house on fire? I know it was an accident but... oof. Leave an extra cookie out for Santa this year and vow to do better in 2022. I'm rooting for you!

Virgo - Did you spend a lot of time wrapping your gifts this year, Virgo? Did you make crisp folds and top them off with shiny bows? I bet you did, you animal you. I hope those perfectly adorned gifts stave off your existential dread like you hoped they would, if only for tonight. Now THAT'S the magic of Christmas!

Libra - You're obviously looking for balance this winter, Libra. Cut down your own tree and plant one in its place. Buy yourself that new sweater and gift one to your neighbor. Sing a song about seducing Santa and also an equally erotic song about Krampus. Equilibrium!

Scorpio - Hey, Scor, it's okay. It's okay that you're thirsting over the Grinch this holiday season. He's sexy as hell. The way he just takes charge... uses his small dog to enact his terrible plans... There's no shame in it.

Sagittarius - This season, hop to the Christmas tree and grab the Yule log, Sagittarius! A bit of hot cocoa for the snowman's tinsel will put lights on the house if there's room on the naughty list. Sing those bells and Jesus can snow to rockin' round the Christmas tree for the girls and holly. Rejoice! REJOICE! HAHAHAHA!