A Politically Correct Christmas Poem

Now, I get pretty frustrated with all of the politically correct crap that's oh-so abundant during the holiday season. I guess I had been under the impression that it's only been recently that politcal correctness had actually run amok to the point that is was obvious to everyone (yet talked about by almost no one). But quite sadly, that is apparently not the case.

I ran across the poem below today. It was wrote in 1992 by a gent by the name of Harvey Ehrlich. Well, it was copyrighted in 1992, so I suppose it could have been written even earlier than that. The point is that is was wrote at least 17 years ago and I swear to you, you'd think that it was penned last week. Seriously. 17 years later and so many folks in society are still acting in the same idiotic manner. What say we try and give that a rest next year, all rightee? Then we can start looking back on this poem and feeling grateful that we're not like this anymore. Now that would truly be a Christmas miracle!

‘Twas the night before Christmas and Santa’s a wreck…

How to live in a world that’s politically correct?

His workers no longer would answer to “Elves,”

“Vertically Challenged” they were calling themselves.

And labor conditions at the North Pole

Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.

Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,

Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.

And equal employment had made it quite clear

That Santa had better not use just reindeer.

So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid,

Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid!

The runners had been removed from his sleigh;

The ruts were termed dangerous by the E.P.A.

And people had started to call for the cops

When they heard sled noises on their roof-tops.

Second-hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened.

His fur trimmed red suit was called “Unenlightened.”

And to show you the strangeness of life’s ebbs and flows,

Rudolf was suing over unauthorized use of his nose

And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,

Demanding millions in over-due compensation.

So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,

Who suddenly said she’d enough of this life,

Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz,

Demanding from now on her title was Ms.

And as for the gifts, why, he’d ne’er had a notion

That making a choice could cause so much commotion.

Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,

Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.

Nothing that might be construed to pollute.

Nothing to aim. Nothing to shoot.

Nothing that clamored or made lots of noise.

Nothing for just girls. Or just for the boys.

Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.

Nothing that’s warlike or non-pacific.

No candy or sweets…they were bad for the tooth.

Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.

And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,

Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.

For they raised the hackles of those psychological

Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.

No baseball, no football…someone could get hurt;

Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt.

Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe’;

And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away.

So Santa just stood there, disheveled, perplexed;

He just could not figure out what to do next.

He tried to be merry, tried to be gay,

But you’ve got to be careful with that word today.

His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground;

Nothing fully acceptable was to be found.

Something special was needed, a gift that he might

Give to all without angering the left or the right.

A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision,

Each group of people, every religion;

Every ethnicity, every hue,

Everyone, everywhere…even you.

So here is that gift, it’s price beyond worth…

“May you and your loved ones enjoy peace on earth.”

copyright Harvey Ehrlich, 1992
Notice: This poem is copyright 1992 by Harvey Ehrlich. It is free to distribute, without changes, as long as this notice remains intact.

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Why Men Don't Write Advice Columns

If I knew who to credit for the content below, I absolutely would. It's an example of why men don't write advice columns. Personally, I'm not sure why anyone writes an advice column that does not consist solely of the reply: "What is wrong with you? Why can't you figure this out on your own?" I always secretly hope that the majority of the letters that are published are just made up by the "advice columnist" because otherwise it would mean that there are a lot of people out there that really lack the ability to noodle through the blatantly obvious. Duh.

Anyway, real or not, male or female, this is why we may or may not be asking women for advice instead of men. I'm sure you'll agree.

Dear Walter,

I hope you can help me here. The other day, I set off for work leaving my husband in the house watching the TV as usual. I hadn't driven more than a mile down the road when the engine conked out and the car shuddered to a halt.

I walked back home to get my husband's help. When I got home I couldn't believe my eyes. He was in our bedroom with the neighbors daughter. I am 32, my husband is 34, and the neighbor's daughter is 22. We have been married for ten years. When I confronted him, he broke down and admitted that they had been having an affair for the past six months. I told him to stop or I would leave him. He was let go from his job six months ago and he says he has been feeling increasingly depressed and worthless. I love him very much, but ever since I gave him the ultimatum he has become increasingly distant. He won't go to counseling and I'm afraid I can't get through to him anymore. Can you please help?

Sincerely,

Sheila

Dear Sheila:

A car stalling after being driven a short distance can be caused by a variety of faults with the engine. Start by checking that there is no debris in the fuel line. If it is clear, check the vacuum pipes and hoses on the intake manifold and also check all grounding wires. If none of these approaches solves the problem, it could be that the fuel pump itself is faulty, causing low delivery pressure to the injectors. I hope this helps.

Walter

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Happy Belated Festivus!

Hey! Happy Festivus, everybody! Well, Happy Belated Festivus! (There's too many holidays to keep track of now days. Christmas. Hanukkah. Ramandan. Kwanzaa. Sometimes they get lost in the shuffle!)

That's right! It's December 23, the official day of the unofficial holiday of Festivus! For those of you unclear on the concept of Festivus, allow me.

It was December 18, 1997. A Thursday, as I recall. It was late in the evening, perhaps around 9pm, when the 'Seinfeld' episode "The Strike" first aired. It was during that episode that the Frank Costanza character explained to Kramer how it came to be that he, Frank himself, had invented Festivus. According to Frank, "Many Christmases ago, I went to buy a doll for my son. I reached for the last one they had, but so did another man. As I rained blows upon him, I realized there had to be another way....But out of that a new holiday was born: a Festivus for the rest of us!" And God bless 'im! God bless all the "Seinfeld" cast!!

Just like Christmas and other traditional holidays (or, at least, holidays most people have heard of) there are decorations and activities galore! But unlike Christmas, there is no tree. That's right! No tree! (Happy now, environmentalists? Happy now, all of you 'Save the Rainforest' freakazoids? Happy?!!) Instead there is a pole. According to Frank, the reason for the pole is that "It requires no decoration. I find tinsel distracting....It's made from aluminum. Very high strength-to-weight ratio." (I, too, find tinsel, and other shiny objects, quite distracting. So this is a welcome element to the tradition because sometimes I...hey! What's blinking over there....?)During the year when it is not Festivus season, the pole is stored away (similar to what you do with your artificial Christmas tree if you have chosen to destroy the environment that way). Frank stores his in the crawlspace of the attic. (I thought I'd throw that in there in case you were for at a loss as to what you could do with your Festivus pole throughout the year.)

There doesn't seem to be a "traditional" Festivus food or meal. You can pretty much have whatever you want. After all, it's Festivus! But immediately after the big Festivus meal has been served (you kind of just assume that whatever it is, it's going to be big. I don't know why, but you just do.) that is when the traditional activities of the holiday take place. And you don't want to miss these. Oh, no! First up, the Airing of Grievances.

The Airing of Grievances, again according to Frank Costanza, "...consists of lashing out at others and the world about how one has been disappointed in the past year." (Interesting. That was just known as "dinnertime" in my house growing up.) It sounds like a fab-ulous idea! Better yet, there's no need to apologize or hug and make up after you've aired all said grievances! Wonderful! Festivus, a holiday of liberating proportions! (In "The Strike" Frank gets the Airing of Grievances rolling by starting with "The tradition of Festivus begins with the Airing of Grievances. I got a lot of problems with you people! And now, you're gonna hear about it. You, Kruger. My son tells me your company STINKS!" Again, most excellent!)

Once grievances are aired and the Festivus (or Feastivus) is completed, then it is time for the Feats of Strength! The Feats of Strengths follow these guidelines: "Traditionally, the head of the household selects one person at the Festivus celebration and challenges that person to a wrestling match. The person may decline if they have something else to do, such as pull a double shift at work. Tradition states that Festivus is not over until the head of the household is pinned in a wrestling match." It sort of has that WWF feel to it, only without all of the fakery and the steroids (as far as we know). As we all know what a stressful time the holiday season can be, I suggest having an ample supply of protective headgear available for the very young and the elderly. Everyone else just has to tough it out. It's unclear in the Festivus yore if the head of the household pins his wrestling opponent of choice if he selects another victim or if that poor sap must continue until, if ever, he pins down the household head.

Judging from the way that Festivus was invented, it's pretty safe to say that there is no gift giving during the Festivus holiday. And that's just fine because in reality? Most people are not very good gift givers. Just take George Costanza, Frank's son. The son that he was buying the doll for when all hell broke loose. During the same episode in which Festivus was introduced to the rest of the world (or, at least, the world with US television programming) George gave "charitable donations" in the recipient's name as Christmas gifts that year. It's the one gift that people don't like, don't want, and will never say another word about. Why? Because it's a charity! You can't bad mouth a charity! (But you can bad mouth George because his "charity" was fictional. He made it up. Thus, all of his Christmas gifts said "A donation has been made in your name to 'The Human Fund: Money For People.' " It's as brilliant as it is despicable.)

What a glorious holiday! Aluminum poles, aired grievances, feats of pinning strength! It all sounds very cathartic. What could possibly go wrong?! Both nothing and everything, that is correct. Just let the thing run it's course and you'll be fine either way. So again, Happy Festivus everyone! Where's my pole?

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Thou Shalt Not Steal Most of the Time

Can I call a priest a moron? What if he really actually is a moron? Then can I? Since there aren't really any rules for this sort of thing, I'm going to take it upon myself to assume that I can call him an moron and thus, I'm going to do so. You might even agree with me and want to call him a moron yourself. You can wait to make that decision until after you've read the gist of this ordeal if you'd like. I, however, am fully in the gist and will not wait any longer. You, sir, are a moron.

Today our story of moronism takes us across the pond to jolly old England and to the Church of St. Lawrence. (If you're on some sort of sightseeing expedition and would like to add this to your stops, that's in the northern English city of York.) According to a one Theunis Bates over there at Sphere, the Rev. Tim Jones presented his parishoners with an interesting direction for them to go forth and do with. According to the extremely misguided Rev. Jones, he explained to his parishoners that "...poor people struggling to survive should steal food and other essentials from shops, rather than raise money through prostitution, burglary or mugging." Um, wait. What now?

Correct. If you're poor, you should steal. Don't pimp yourself (or hooker yourself) out. Don't be burgling. Don't be mugging. Just be stealing. Plain old stealing. Hallelujiah! Let's go steal! Not so fast! It's not like he didn't realize that this would be controversial or anything. (Hmmm....I wonder if he realized how stupid it would sound. I'm guessing not. Continue.) He laid down some ground rules. Oh, good. Ground rules for...stealing? Yes! Ground rules for stealing, that is correct. OK, then. Let's look at those.

Stealing Rule One: "...do not steal from small, family businesses, but from large national businesses, knowing that the costs are ultimately passed on to the rest of us in the form of higher prices." Um, wait ! That's all they have to do to make this OK with you?! To know that the rest of us are going to get screwed by higher prices as a result of Stealy McTakes-A-Lot over there?! That's it!? Tell me something. What, exactly, is all of this "knowing" supposed to accomplish? See, because usually, when you "know" something, it's so that you won't do it. "Just so you know, you cannot fly. Thus, if you jump out of that window, you will meet your splattery doom." That makes sense to know. But I don't know what good it is to "know" something if you're going to go ahead and do it anyway! "Just so you know, you're screwing over everyone else whose tax dollars are likely already enabling you to survive. Now shove this smoked ham underneath your coat and make a run for it!"

Stealing Rule Two: Rev. Jones says "I would ask them not to take any more than they need..." Uh, Rev? Ever been poor? I don't think that you have. You'd be amazed at how much you "need" when you have "nothing". You'd also be amazed at how much you "need" when you're being enabled to "justify" stealing. While it may be true that some may "need" food, does that automatically mean that they "need" prime rib? What about lobster? What about super buttery crackers, not just Saltines? You'd be amazed at what folks think that they "need" when they're being told "Go forth, my son, and rip off thine vendors."

Stealing Rule Three: This is the second part of Stealing Rule Two which was "I would ask them not to take any more than they need....for any longer than they need." What does that even mean? For any longer than they need? Does that mean only keep something that you've stolen for as long as you need it? (Tell me how that's going to work with this purseful of pork loin that I just pilfered.) Or does that mean to only steal as long as you need to steal (as outlined by the Reverend's guidelines, I suppose)? Do you know what the difference is between the time that it takes to steal something and the time that it takes to go to work every day, earn a paycheck, cash that paycheck and then go buy that thing? It's a lopsided comparison at best!

I'm sure that you can imagine that this didn't sit too well with folks like law enforcement and UK retailers, including something called the British Retail Consortium. (Now, I don't know what that is, but it's a really cool name. Consortium. Is that anything like a well-organized militia?) The Consortium's speaker, a one Krishan Rama, said "You'd expect a vicar to appreciate the difference between right and wrong...There are no excuses for stealing." A novel concept indeed.

As you can imagine (or, at the very least, hope) this whole thieving ideology didn't really sit well with Reverend Jones's boss. No, not that boss (though I'd have to imagine that he was none too thrilled himself), but rather the flesh and bones boss, a one Archdeacon of York, the Venerable Richard Seed. (I wonder, if you are an Archdeacon, does that automatically make you venerable? I have no idea. I don't even know how one becomes an Archdeacon. It sounds kind of cool, though. It has a sort of superhero ring to it. The Archdeacon of York is here to save the daaaaayy!) He tried to distance himself from the remarks of Reverend Jones by saying "The Church of England does not advise anyone to shoplift, or break the law in any way." Finally! Someone with some sense over there in York!

But wait! Here's the best part! According to the above cited article, the Reverend later clarified his position on some British TV show. He said, in part,that he "never said it is OK to steal. It is a dreadful thing to steal." Wait. You never said it was OK to steal?! But there were rules! Three of them from what I inferred! It is "dreadful", but you said go for it! What do you mean you never said that?!

He said that "The sermon was in fact only meant to encourage worshippers to give more to charity, not incite them to snatch cookies from the corner store." Wait. How was it meant to do that? I'm not following you here. According to the Yorkshire Evening Post, you said, "My advice, as a Christian priest, is to shoplift." Huh. See, that doesn't really sound like encouraging worshippers to do anything other than steal things. Where does the encouragement for giving to charity come in? Oh, that's right. It doesn't!

This whole thing is wrong on so many levels. There's the stealing in and of itself to begin with. I think we've covered that one. But next is that now we have a priest who is lying to us! I don't think priests are supposed to lie! (I also don't think that they're supposed to be spending all of that time with those altar boys either, but that's an entirely different subject!) You really can't infer a whole lot from "My advice, as a Christian priest, is to shoplift" other than what it says! He might as well have just said "That was taken out of context." What context?! You said steal!

But here's the part that just kills me. People who are poor, just like every other kind of people, come in two kinds. There are poor people who are smart and there are poor people who are just dumb as a post. Of those who are more likely to heed such a ridiculous suggestion, I'm going to guess it would most likely be the paste eaters. Tell me something, Reverend. Just exactly how good do you think these sorts of folks are going to be at all of the stealing? Seriously. He makes the assumption that if he tells folks to steal, that God is just going to guide them into doing it correctly and getting away with it. Just because you steal something, that doesn't mean that it's going to turn out the way you want it (that way being that you don't get caught and you get your stolen item for free instead of having to work for it like the rest of us, you thieving thief). You clearly didn't think this one through, Clem. Er, Reverend Clem.

So let's just assume (making it a given would be presumptuous) that one of these divinely inspired shoplifters doesn't make it through the front door with that lobster tail hanging out of their pocket and that package of frozen peas in their boots (I'm envisioning big boots, so stay with me here). Then what? I don't know about how things work in the UK, but over here in America, we arrest people for things like that. A lot of the time, they go to jail until they are bailed out. How much money do you think Thief-y von Petty Theft over there is going to have to put towards his bail? I'm guessing if he couldn't pay for that smoked salmon in his shorts, he isn't going to have a whole heck of a lot for bail, either. Then what?

I know! Call Reverend Jones! He'll come bail you out! He's the one that suggested that you steal from businesses in the first place! I'm sure that his congregation won't mind their collection plate dues going to bail out an obedient member of their flock! Sure! No problem! Then again, how much of a flock is he going to have left after this debacle? Right. Probably the same size of a flock as he had before he became the poster child for holiday looting, not to mention holiday scrambling and lying. Whatever. As long as he and his pilfering flock stay on that side of the pond, I won't have to worry about it on this side of the pond. Dear God! Unless he's put his message on YouTube!

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Seven Years of the World's Cutest Kitten

Well, I think I lost a little bit of my soul today. Granted, I'm practically soulless as it is, but that's when you really notice that a little bit more of it has gone missing all of a sudden. Actually, this wasn't all of a sudden. No, there was a reason for this particular loss of soul. And it involved seventeen seconds and a little cat.

That's right. A little cat. A really cute, really little cat. (A little cat is also known as a kitten, by the way.) See, these folks posted this video on YouTube. It's titled, very simply "Surprised Kitten". And that's just what the video shows. It shows someone tickling the tiniest little kitten that you've ever seen. And when the person stop the tickling, the kitten throws all of it's paws back and it looks really, really surprised. It's quite adorable, I will admit. Behold! The cutest little cat that you'll see all day!

Aww. Wasn't that adorable? Of course it was! How many times did you watch it? Don't lie! I know it wasn't just once. I watched it three times before becoming despondent (more on that in a moment). The little tickling noise that the person (it sounds like it's a guy, but I'm not totally sure, but if it's a chick, I don't want to offend her by thinking that it's a guy because of those man hands in the video, so that's why I'm going with "person") is making is a bit annoying, but the cuteness of the kitten really cancels that out.

Here's the thing: I only clicked on this video because of two reasons. One, it was short. I have the attention span of a gnat and so something that was seventeen seconds long sounded right up my alley. But the real reason I clicked on it was the number of views that it had. At the writing of this post, that video, which was uploaded on October 13, 2009 (soooo....70 days ago) has been viewed a total of 13,005,536 times. Yes, that's million. Thirteen million times. Granted, that's not as many as Jill and Kevin's Wedding Entrance Dance which is currently clocking in at somewhere around 35 million (Good Lord..), but this cat didn't dance. All this cat did was look surprised. I think that had a lot to do with it. That dancing stuff, well, people like it.

But back to the loss of my soul. For some reason (and I do this on occasion) my mind snapped into math mode and I began calculating the time that has been spent watching that video of the little cat. I am well aware that time is relative and that there is no way that this figure that I came up with is indicative of the actual figure that it is. I get that. I'm not one of those people who takes statistics or figures and maniuplates what they are in order to meet their own needs or back up their own theories. Trust me when I say that is that last thing that I want to do. I think the majority of people are morons and that frightens me. Lord knows I really don't want that to be backed up by anything, got it? All right then.

13,005,536 views at 17 seconds per view comes out to 221,094,112 seconds. 221...million? Seconds? That comes out to be 3,684,902 minutes. (I rounded up from 3,684,901.86.) Now, I was a little hopeful at this point because 3.6 million minutes didn't sound as bad as 221 million seconds. Yes, I know that it's the same, but it just sounds better. Too bad it just all went downhill from there, though.

3,684,902 minutes is roughly 61,415 hours. Huh. That sounds like an awful lot of hours, doesn't it? Yep. That's because it is an awful lot of hours. It's also a lot of days, coming in at a total of 2559. Again, I rounded up from 2558.958, so don't send me emails telling me that I'm wrong. I'm not, but if you were thinking that I was, you're an ass.) And here's where it is truly frightening. 2559 days is 7.01 years. Watching. A. Cat.

Is this really what we should be doing with our time? I don't know, but it's not like we're going to stop any time soon. The thing is, that's just time that was spent watching that damn cat. Jill and Kevin's Wedding Entrance Dance was 5 minutes and 9 seconds long. Let's just round that down to five minutes for the sake of humanity, shall we? At 35 million views, that equates to 175,000,000 (that's million) minutes. 2,916,667 hours. 121,528 days. 332 years. Years. Three...how many? Three hundred and thirty two years worth of time spent watching Jill and Kevin and their friends boogie down the aisle toward wedded bliss to the song of a guy who beats up women. (That's not their fault, by the way, and they've raised a boatload of money for a charity that aims to prevent violence against women, so back off!)

I'm pretty sure that we should be doing something else, but I cannot, for the life of me, figure out what in the heck that should be. Oh, sure, curing cancer, healing the blind, those things come to mind, but there's only one problem with that. I don't know how to do those things! And I'm never going to know how to do those things. It's a little depressing, I realize that, but it's the truth. If you have cancer, don't turn to me for help because that would be a BIG mistake. I mean, if you want someone to hold your hand and tell you knock-knock jokes while you're having chemo, I'm your gal! Other than that, I'd look elsewhere.

But I'm more OK spending hundreds of years watching two people who are obviously in love and who are obviously having a great time on their wedding day than I am with spending seven years watching that little cat. Thus, the removal of part of my soul. ::: sigh ::: But dang it, that cat's cute. Let's watch it again!

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Santa is NOT Hazardous to Your Health

Who are you people who get a Ph.D or an MD and have the title "Dr." in front of your name and then decide that you know everything whether it related to what your degree is in or not and decide to proclaim your self-decided knowledge as the gospel of whatever. (Gospel of jackassery, from what I can tell here, but whatever you'd like to call it is fine with me.) Are you folks so danged miserable in your own lives that you just have to be a certain kind of a jackass around everyone else? Naturally, I'm not saying that all folks who are doctors are like this. But for those of you who are? Could you do us all a favor? Pipe down and go away, please? And while you're at it, leave Santa Claus out of your quackery, all right? All right.

Let's take a look at a one Dr Nathan Grills from Australia's Monash University. Now, I don't know if he has done an actual "study" or if he has just taken the liberty to use his title of "doctor" as a way to publish what is essentially an editorial piece in the British Medical Journal, but I do know that he's so completely full of crap that it almost makes me angry. And I'm not sure if I'm angry at him or if I'm angry at a medical journal for publishing this garbage. It's a medical journal! It's supposed to be about medicine! It's not supposed to be having articles/papers by some 27-year old doctor in Australia who claims that Santa Claus is a "...promoter of obesity, disease and even driving under the influence" and is, therefore, a bad influence for children.

::: blink ::: ::: blink :::

Um, what now? Santa....Santa Claus is....is....Good Lord, man. What is wrong with you?!

According to the fine folks down under at the Herald Sun in an article titled "Boozy, fat Santa a 'bad example' (there's a catchy title!), we learn that this moron, this Dr. Grills, claims that Santa Claus is "...acting in ways that could damage millions of lives." Now, if you haven't decided that this definitely signals the end of all humanity and have rushed off to spend more time with your loved ones before society implodes upon itself, keep reading and I'll tell you how Dr. Grills claims that Santa is doing all of this. (Have a drink while you're reading if it helps! It certainly doesn't hurt when you're reading other posts now, does it?)

Grills (I'm dropping the "Dr." for the rest of this post, as I just can not stomach it) claims that "Santa's "rotund sedentary image" had the effect of making "obesity synonymous with cheerfulness and joviality" around the world." Ah, yes. The synonymous cheerful and jovial fat man which has taken over all parts of the globe including Somalia!

Ethiopia!

And Madagascar! Behold!

Yeah, I'm not seeing a whole lot of obesity, nor cheerfulness and joviality over there, how about you, Mr. Grills? Seriously. When I think "obesity" I don't think "Santa Claus". I think stuff like this. Behold!

Now that does not make me jovial nor cheerful. It makes me a little bit nauseous if you really want to know. But Santa Claus? He never makes me nauseous. (OK, the ones at the malls make me a little nervous sometimes, but nauseous? Never.)

Mr. Grills "....also noted that children are encouraged to leave out hard liquor such as Brandy for a man who has a lot of travel to do in one night." OK, see, this is where you can tell that Mr. Grills is so full of himself that he is unable to see past only what exists in his own world. Over here in America, we do not leave brandy out for Santa. We leave milk and we leave cookies. People who want to be all cutsey leave out carrots for his reindeer (do reindeer even eat carrots?). We're not wasting good brandy on some guy who, essentially, breaks into our homes. Milk. Milk and delicious cookies. Pay attention, Nathan! There are lots of traditions around the world besides yours! Shocking, I know!

Continuing along the article of idiocy, "Other dangerous activities on Santa's list of festive wrongdoings include "speeding, disregard for road rules and extreme sports such as roof surfing and chimney jumping", because "despite the risks of high speed air travel, he is never depicted wearing a seatbelt or helmet". Oh, for God's sake. What is wrong with you sir?!

First of all, you have NO idea if the man is speeding or not. If you're basing that on the fact that he has to visit every house on the entire planet, well then, I think that you've just stated the reason for making that concern completely idiotic. As far as the "road rules", um, Santa flies his sleigh in the skies. There are no roads up there. I've been in a plane and you know what I didn't see when I was flying? That's right. Roads. And those "extreme sports" you cite? I don't know that you know that he does that. I cannot recall the "roof surfing" and the jumping from chimney to chimney as part of my Christmas time lore when I was a child. Or even now (when I tend to act childlike).

What, exactly, are the "risks of high speed air travel" as you see them, Mr. Grills? When I'm on an airplane, that's "high speed air travel" is it not? I have never worn a helmet on a plane and I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that you have not either, you jackass. (And if I'm wrong and you have worn a helmet on a plane, just what do you think that is going to do for you if you're plummeting towards the earth?)

So what does Mr. Grills suggest we do about such non-existent atrocities that are occurring during the most wonderful time of the year? Well, he "...recommended that instead of using a sleigh, the man himself should be "encouraged to adopt a more active method to deliver toys - swapping his reindeer for a bike or simply walking or jogging". I don't know about you, but although I know next to nothing about piloting a flying sleigh led by eight tiny reindeer and Rudolph, I would hardly call it "inactive". Is Mr. Grills suggesting that we make Christmas be on every single day of December? Because if he's going to have Santa walking from house to house, that's going to be a bit time consuming. It's hardly an activity that can be accomplished in one night. If you put all of the brandy that Mr. Grills is leaving out for the man, it could take all damn year as a boozed up Santa staggers from street to street. How is he supposed to get into our homes if he walks? You want him to jog carrying that sack of toys?! That's not going to happen! Oh, wait! Mr. Grills probably wants him to put the presents in one of those baby jogger stroller things that everyone is always pushing around while they jog. Yeah, that sounds real traditional. That's something youngsters will really be able to sink their imagination into all right.

Listen. Mr. Grills. In all of your reasoning as to why this whole deal with Santa is a problem, you've overlooked one key point. (Spoiler alert here!) See, Santa Claus isn't real. This stuff that you've described that he does? Yeah, that doesn't really happen. And when kids get to the age where they, sadly, don't believe in Santa Claus anymore, then that's when they know that those things don't happen. They're not going to be sitting around wondering how a drunken Santa is driving the sleigh without crashing through their rooftops. No, they're going to be wondering if they can stay awake longer than their parents so that they can sneak back out to the fireplace and sip that brandy themselves!

Lay off of the Christmas traditions, Mr. Grills. Put your sanctimonious conclusions somewhere that isn't going to annoy anyone else. That would include not in a medical journal. And folks over there at the British Medical Journal, what were you folks thinking? Don't give this man and other folks like him a platform to spew such ridiculousness. You're supposed to be publishing papers on how you're working on curing cancer and helping the blind to see and stuff like that. You're not supposed to be publishing papers about why someone doesn't like a fictional character. Next thing you know, Nature is going to publish an article "Why Spongebob is Offensive to Other Porous and Multi-Celled Aquatic Organisms".

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Jesus, You Don't Shoot Santa!

Now, listen. I understand that one could get a little upset about the overcommercialization of Christmas. For cryin' out loud, there are displays out right after Halloween if the stores wait that long. I get it. And I can also get why one would want to be against the whole corporate greed thing when it comes to Christmas. I totally understand. But if you're going to take your own little stand there, Clem, what say you actually do remember the reason for the season and you not be a jerk about it, alright?

Dateline: Nipomo, California. Sub-dateline: That's by San Luis Obispo, kind of in the middle of the state. It's where a guy named Ron Lake lives. Ron decided that he had had enough of the commercialization of Christmas and he wanted to reclaim it for Jesus. Rather, he wanted Jesus to reclaim it for himself. Sort of. Anyway, that's why he decided it would be a good idea to build a Christmas display showing Jesus shooting and killing Santa Claus dead. Wait. What now?

Correct. You know, I've read the Bible. I don't recall Jesus packing firearms at any point in the whole thing. Not once. Jesus was more of a moderate than he was a gun-toting radical, wasn't he? Maybe I missed something, but I don't think so. Anyway, back to Nipomo.

It seems that this Ron Lake fellow has just had it with the capitalistic side of Christmas and so he decided to strike back by doing something that would only torment small children and disturb many adults who happened across his protest. According to the fine folks over there at KOMO News, Ron's display has "Santa is shown dead on the ground with X's over his eyes." OK. Check!

"Standing over Santa and staring down the barrel of his shotgun is Jesus." OK. Check! Um, wait. Check? Why does Santa look like Charles Manson? This is starting to get weird.

"And the dead, limp body of Rudolph is strewn over the back of a pickup truck." Annnnnddd check! (But wait! What the heck did Rudolph do?! He's like the messenger! You don't shoot the messenger! Nor do you impale leaf-less branches from a maple tree in his noggin, but I digress.)

Ron claims that "Christmas isn't about Santa; it's about Jesus. It's an expression of my repressed creativity." Repressed creativity? Look, I understand the point he's trying to make. I really do. But I also understand what kind of person would use the term "repressed creativity" in order to attempt to justify their "display". That person is known as a "jackass".

And besides, isn't that statement a little bit contradictory? Which one is it, sir? Is it about Jesus or is it about your creativity? What's that? Oh, I see! It's really about neither one and it's just about you wanting to have a little fun and make a little scene and see how many of the townsfolk you can get all riled up? Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?! Wait. Oh, that's right. He didn't say that. I said that! Well, for cryin' out loud, someone had to say it!

Yeah, the people around there are not happy with Mr. Lake's holiday ornamentation. It's not just because it's not cool. I think we can all pretty much agree on that. But where his house is located is right across the street from a school bus stop. That means that plenty of children, some of whom likely still believe in Santa Claus (a practice of which I am a huge proponent of), are going to be a little bit confused when they see jolly old St. Nick not looking all so jolly there on the ground with the Son of God standing over him, toting a Remington.

Apparently, people in town have been quite upset by this whole thing. Some have even asked the Sheriff to do something about it. (Do something about what, exactly? The First Amendment to the Constitution?) The Sheriff has said that there is nothing that they can do because of the free speech thing and because of the private property thing. I get all of that and I don't have a problem with it. But you're talking about little kids at Christmas time who are going to be affected by this. I don't know how many and I don't know if the number should make a difference, but I know that if Mr. Lake is going to stand over there and preach that it's all about Jesus, then he should take the damn thing down.

Since the Sheriff can't do anything about it, "Area residents say they may start a petition to fight the display." Um, a petition? A petition to do what exactly? Do these folks realize when Christmas is? It's in a week. And who, pray tell, will they be petitioning? Mrs. Claus? God? I'm so confused.

I don't have a problem with someone exercising their rights to free speech. That's what makes this country so incredibly awesome. But I have a problem with people taking their right to free speech and imposing their beliefs on others in a way that is completely unproductive. Does Mr. Lake really think that his being a jackass and claiming that he's some Jesus loving repressed artist is going to make people in town say, "Oh! Well...since you put it that way." Yeah, I don't think that's going to happen.

And really, the right to free speech and someone exercising their right to free speech isn't even the issue here and Mr. Lake knows it. He's just doing it to be a bitter old man, is all. I'm not saying that it's not a little amusing. It is. But he just doesn't seem like the type of guy who is doing something in the name of Jesus, you know? That's the part that irritates me. Here's my thing: If you're going to be a jackass, as least admit it. Don't try to pretend you're not a jackass. I'll have a lot more respect for you if you'll just admit it, rather than trying to blame Jesus for something, you know?

Mr. Lake says, "You can tell your kids and make it as though there is a Santa Claus and let them believe all that, but you can't explain this thing? I don't get it." Sir, you don't have to "get it". You don't have to understand why believing in Santa Claus is a good thing. You don't have to. I swear. It's OK that you're so damn bitter and (likely) alone that you want everyone to be just as bitter as you are. That's fine. But don't drag people into your self imposed hatred of everything.

He continued his blather with "Not that Jesus is a killer with a shotgun, but come on. There's a little bit of humor here, a little bit of tragedy here." Um, Jesus wasn't a killer with a shotgun OR without! I'm not recalling Jesus killing anyone, let alone Santa Claus. There is a tragedy and it's in the form of someone with a Jesus killing Santa display across from a bus stop. There's a bit of humor, but I'm going to guess that the children are going to fail to see it.

You know, Charlie Brown was against the commercialization of Christmas. Did he give Jesus Christ a shotgun and have him gun down Santa Claus? No, he picked up a piece of crap tree and all of his friends decorated it after they all realized the true meaning of Christmas. Then they sang. NO guns. NO Jesus. Certainly NO dead Santa Claus.

It's Christmas time. Jesus didn't have a shotgun and Jesus didn't act like a jackass. If you want to make sure that people remember that Christmas is more about Jesus than Santa, don't give Jesus a gun and don't be a jackass. It's pretty simple. There are many, many ways to get your point across, but Jesus, don't shoot Santa! (I couldn't resist. That pun was just dyin' to come out!)

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