Christmas 'Round the World

Opinion | thepilot.com

So here it is, Christmas Day. All the halls are decked, all the chestnuts roasted, and all the eggs nogged. If you have kids, your home is no doubt filled with the cheerful din of the little ones doing their level best to completely destroy the toys Santa brought. It’s tradition.

There are lots of traditions at Christmas. There are the big, widely shared ones, like the tree and the pretty lights. But it should surprise no one that, around the world, people celebrate the holidays in ways that are, shall we say, a little different.

In Japan, for example, nothing says “Christmas” like KFC.

While the birth of Jesus isn’t a national holiday in the Land of the Rising Sun, a combination of clever marketing and a craving for holiday fowl among homesick expatriates has caused Colonel Sanders to be as much an icon as Santa Claus this time of year in Japan.

The chain sells an estimated 240,000 “party barrels” of chicken, chocolate cake and wine every holiday. Better get your order in early, though. They often sell out months in advance (My wife, by the way, heartily approves of this tradition).

The folks in Greenland enjoy some more traditional (at least for them) delicacies at Christmastime. There’s “mattiak,” which is a strip of whale skin with blubber inside. It’s reputed to be somewhat chewy.

Or if you’re not into seafood, there’s “kiviak,” which is the flesh of 500 or so auks (a tiny Arctic bird), packed inside a sealskin, which is then sewn up and allowed to ferment for about seven months before the sealskin is opened and what must be a truly indescribable mess is consumed.

Yum! After contemplating that, fruitcake doesn’t seem so bad now, does it?

For truly odd Christmas treats, however, you have to go to the Catalan region of Spain, where one of the iconic figures of the season is the “Tió de Nadal,” or Christmas Log — a hollowed-out piece of wood with a happy face and little wooden legs on one end and the other end open.

Starting Dec. 8, it’s the children’s job to “feed” Tió de Nadal by stuffing him with candies, nuts and other foodstuffs. On Christmas Eve, it’s time for the little guy to earn his other name: Caga Tió, which, politely translated, means “poop log.”

The children beat the log with sticks to make the goodies fall out, while chanting the traditional song that goes, “Poop, log! Poop nougats, hazelnuts and cheese! Poop well, or I’ll beat you with a stick!”

This goes to show you one thing that binds all humanity together: Whatever their nationality, little kids find poop jokes hilarious. When the poor, put-upon log is finally “emptied,” he’s tossed into the fire and burned, which hardly seems fair, really.

And yes, the kids do eat the candy.

The people of Venezuela haven’t had a lot to celebrate recently. But let’s hope they’ve kept one great Christmas tradition alive, by which I mean the tradition of roller-skating to Christmas Mass.

According to MSN, “vehicular access to Caracas is blocked off in many areas before 8 a.m. to allow this unconventional commute to take place, and the night before, children will tie one end of string to their big toe and hang the other out of the window — allowing the passing roller skaters to offer a friendly tug as they pass in the morning.”

All of the above seem somewhat whimsical and light hearted. But in the Netherlands, they seem to have gone out of their way to discover the dark side of Christmas.

For one thing, “Sinterklass,” their version of jolly old St. Nick, doesn’t live with his wife at the North Pole. He lives in Spain, surrounded by a group of dark-skinned assistants (possibly slaves) known as “Zwarte Pieten” (“Black Peters”).

The Zwarte Pieten are sort of like Santa’s enforcers; they’re tasked with beating naughty children with sticks and stuffing the really bad ones into sacks to be dragged off to slavery in Spain. The Zwarte Pieten, played by guys in dark makeup and curly-haired wigs, are a fixture at every public appearance of Sinterklaas, because, after all, what would the joy of Christmas be without the dread of black guys coming to your house, beating you senseless, then dragging you off in a sack?

To their credit, some in the Netherlands have begun questioning whether the idea of scaring little kids with violent guys in blackface is a little bit racist. It’s a debate we’ll leave for another time, because hey, it’s Christmas.

Whatever your Christmas tradition, even if it involves roller skates, KFC, pooping logs or scary black elves, I hope it brings you joy and peace.

Santa's Mailbag 2016

Opinion | thepilot.com

Dear Santa: I swallowed my pride. I grinned and laughed at that Cheeto-haired baboon’s stupid jokes and “locker room” talk. I did everything but get on my knees and beg for the secretary of state job. But — well, we know how that turned out. So all I really want for Christmas this year, Santa, is my pride and my dignity back. I’d like to be able to look at myself in the mirror again. — Mitt, Salt Lake City

(Note to staff: You know how I hate disappointing little Mitty, but once you throw that dignity away, it’s gone. Maybe get him a Kindle and an Amazon gift certificate. He’s going to have a lot of time on his hands to read. Again. — S)

Note from staff: OK. You should know we got the same letter from Chris Christie. We’ll give him the same. — Hermie the Elf

Dear Santa: Before the election, I was telling people on Twitter that I was ready to “grab my musket” if Hillary Clinton won. I was telling everyone on my radio show that I was looking forward to Trump “draining the swamp.” Now, I find out that the Russians influenced the elections and Trump’s putting all these Goldman Sachs people and insiders from that very swamp in his administration. I’m really ticked off. But I don’t want any kind of do-over. In fact … well, I’m not sure what I want. What do I want, Santa? Help me! — Joe Walsh, Chicago

Note to staff: Joe Walsh? That goofy guitar player for the Eagles and the James Gang? Did all that life in the fast lane make him lose his mind? — S

Note from staff: No, boss, this guy’s a former Republican congressman who has a right-wing radio show now. We don’t know what happened to his mind, but it ain’t pretty. He’s the first one to jump ship, but he won’t be the last. — Hermie

Dear Santa: I know people love you, but I’m gonna say, no one is as loved as me. I’m the greatest musical artist of all time. You feel me? Of all time! Beethoven? Mozart? Couple of (censored) (censored). But when I visited Trump Tower today to meet with the Prez-elect, I realized that want I really want is to be part of Mr. Trump’s Cabinet. Maybe minister of music. Or secretary of awesome. Something that fits my genius. Oh, and Kim wants a pony. — Kanye, Los Angeles

Note to staff: Wait, this Trump guy doesn’t have time for intelligence briefings, but he’s got time to meet with Kanye West? — S

Note to Santa: Yep. Amazing, ain’t it? — Hermie

Note to staff: Well, Kanye’s totally unqualified and bat-spit crazy. I’m surprised Trump didn’t make him ambassador to Great Britain. — S

Note to Santa: Give it time, boss. — Hermie

Dear Santa: Remember how in 2011, I was talking about the three government agencies I’d abolish, but I couldn’t remember the third one? Well, it’s a funny story, actually, but I’m now nominated to be the head of it. Problem is, I still can’t remember what it is. Can you help me? And maybe give me a map to wherever it’s located so I can find my way to work on the first day? Thanks, amigo. — Rick, Austin, Texas

Note to staff: What’s that herb that’s supposed to increase memory? Kinko something? — S

Note to Santa: Gingko Biloba, boss. And we’ll make sure the missus gets some for you, too. — Hermie

Dear Santa: Greetings from Moscow! President Putin is sending best wishes and wants to reassure our neighbor to the North that planes and icebreaking ships you and elves are seeing in northern waters are mere scientific expeditions. Or are there for fishing. Whatever. Also, is no need to get President Putin anything this year. He has everything he needs with the American president so much in his debt, in so many ways. In fact, President Putin wishes to give gift to all American people: copy of Russian language lessons from, how do you say, Rosetta Stone. Will make things easier later. —Yorgi Dmitriovitch Danilov, secretary to Mr. Putin

Note to staff: I don’t like the sound of this, guys. — S

Note to Santa: We don’t either. Merry Christmas anyway, boss.

That (Bad Word) Obama

Opinion | thepilot.com

You know, after rereading last week’s column, it occurs to me that maybe I really have been going a little too easy on President Barack Obama.

Oh, sure, I called his plan to intervene on behalf of Libyan rebels a “terrible idea.” I criticized his intervention in Syria, even though I later had to admit his part in getting Syria to give up its chemical weapons stockpiles was, in the end, a good thing. You can look it up.

But judging from my research into the online Wingnuttosphere, I feel as if I’m remiss, because I apparently haven’t even scratched the surface of the Kenyan Usurper’s perfidy. So, let’s look around and see what else we can blame on TBO —That (Bad Word) Obama.

* In Norway’s Hardangervidda National Park, a hiker recently came upon a terrible sight: the corpses of 323 reindeer, killed by a single lightning strike.

Now, a bunch of egghead “scientists” will probably try and tell you tell you thatthis is something that happens when the reindeer huddle together in a thunderstorm. But science, as we know, has a liberal bias.

Obama, as we also know, hates Christmas, what with all his talk of “Holiday Trees” at the White House (I know multiple fact-checkers have noted that the White House actually uses the word “Christmas” and only “Christmas” in describing the tree. Facts, as we also know, have a liberal bias as well).

Anyway, if a bunch of Santa’s shaggy helpers are found hooves-up and smoking in a field, we all know who’s to blame, don’t we? I’ll bet TBO was even playing golf when those reindeer died.

* Last week, San Francisco 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick whipped good Americans into a righteous fury when he refused to stand during the playing of “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

Kaepernick explained that he was “not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses black people and people of color.” Clearly this is the fault of TBO, who we’re told over and over is the most divisive president America has ever had.

It’s bad enough that he’s black, he has to keep reminding us of it. This has done nothing but embolden other public figures, like professional quarterbacks, to remind us that some of them are black as well. Even worse, they have to keep reminding us that black people might have some actual legitimate grievances about the way they’ve been (and still are) treated in this country.

I mean, a lot of it’s true, but how dare a public figure make us feel bad by reminding us of it? This would never have happened if it hadn’t been for TBO.

* It seems that Republican Maine Gov. Paul LePage is going straight off the deep end. On Aug. 24, he claimed to have a “three-ring binder” which proved that “90 percent” of drug arrestees in Maine were black or Hispanic. Asked to provide the binder, LePage had himself a conniption.

“Black people come up the highway and they kill Mainers,” he railed at reporters. “You ought to look into that! You make me so sick!”

When The Portland Press Herald did look into that and reported that FBI statistics showed that only 14.1 percent of Maine drug arrestees were black or Hispanic, LePage, realizing — as all good Americans do — that statistics also have a liberal bias, doubled down: “When you go to war, you shoot at the enemy. You try to identify the enemy, and the enemy right now, the overwhelming majority of people coming in, are people of color or people of Hispanic origin.”

I won’t even go into what LePage said about a state legislator who insinuated that LePage’s comments about shooting “enemy” blacks and Latinos might be a wee bit racist. Suffice it to say that even my powers of euphemism fail when it comes to reporting those comments in this newspaper.

In the resulting furor, LePage suggested he might resign, then immediately retracted the idea. Now, before the advent of TBO, an elderly erratic white Republican governor would probably have been able to rave about made-up statistics about blacks and Latinos without fear of contradiction. But poor Gov. LePage, in the era of TBO, has to deal with pesky questions about actual “statistics” which, as we know … well, you know what kind of bias they have. How is an old racist supposed to keep his sanity in such times?

Answer: He can’t. And it’s all the fault of That (Bad Word) Obama. Isn’t everything? I can’t wait till his term is over. Then everything that ever goes wrong anywhere will be That (Other Bad Word) Hillary Clinton’s fault.

One Guy's Christmas Movie List

 thepilot.com

It’s Christmas week, folks, so let us put aside our political differences and get into heated arguments over the eggnog about something really important: Christmas movies.

You know how I love to create controversy, and if there’s any topic that’ll do it, this is the one. We all have our favorites; we all have the ones we love to hate. Here’s my own list.

1. Christmas Movie I Just Don’t Get: “Love Actually.”

I know quite a few people who will swear to you that this 2003 multi-plot-threaded rom-com is the greatest Christmas movie ever made. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that all of those people are female.

The movie certainly has a lot of eye candy for the female gender, what with having Colin Firth, Hugh Grant, Liam Neeson — even Alan Rickman before he got all creepy in the Harry Potter movies.

To be fair, for the fellows, we also have Kiera Knightley, Emma Thompson, and the hot blonde from “American Pie” and “Scary Movie.”

But when a movie starts off telling you how romantic airports are, you know you’re getting farther away from reality than even a romantic comedy can justify.

And I’m sorry, but it’s not even all that funny.

2. Christmas Movie That’s Not All It’s Cracked Up To Be: “A Christmas Story.”

Yeah, I said it. OK, Darren McGavin’s a hoot as the creatively profane dad who wins the lamp shaped like a lady’s leg, and I’ll grant you that “You’ll shoot your eye out, kid,” is a passably quotable catch phrase — barely.

But plotwise, the movie’s a mess, stitched together as it is from several short stories by Jean Shepherd. The Chinese restaurant scene is flat-out racist. And that Ralphie kid is just creepy to me.

3. Christmas Movie I Love Even Though a Lot of People Hate It: “Four Christmases.”

Anyone in a so-called “blended” family should be able to relate to this tale of an unmarried but committed couple (Vince Vaughn and Reese Witherspoon) who always leave the country for the holiday to avoid dealing with their eccentric parents, all of whom have divorced and started new lives.

However, when a historic fog grounds their flight and they end up being shown on the TV news story about stranded passengers, they find they can’t avoid spending a raucous holiday with each of their parents and their new families.

I love everything Robert Duvall’s ever been in, but his turn as Vaughn’s crusty, bitter father is one of his unsung gems — both hilarious and ultimately heartbreaking. Dwight Yoakam as the charismatic minister who inspires Vaughn to epic levels of overacting in the Nativity play is also not to be missed.

The movie got terrible reviews, but my friends and I get together and watch it every Christmas season if we can.

4. Flawed Christmas Movie That’s Still Destined to Be a Classic: “Elf.”

Hijinks ensue when Buddy, a human child raised by Santa’s elves, decides to return to the big city to find his birth father.

Will Ferrell plays yet another version of his hyperactive man-child character, and the whole “Central Park Rangers” plot feels like a tacked-on attempt to generate menace with a ripoff of the nasty black horsemen from the “Lord of the Rings” movies.

But the character of Papa Elf is Bob Newhart at his deadpan best, and I defy you not to get all misty when the entire city of New York, including a bar full of bikers, joins together to refuel Santa’s sleigh with Christmas spirit by singing “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town,” led in song by the just-plumb-adorable Zooey Deschanel.

5. The Greatest Christmas Movie of All Time, The One By Which All Others Are Measured and Found Wanting: “Die Hard.”

I really don’t see how anyone can argue with this. It’s the story of a man willing to risk everything and overcome impossible odds, just so he can “get together, have a few laughs” with his family at the holiday season. I mean, really, how heartwarming can you get? …

So that’s the list. Let the arguments begin! But play nice. After all, it’s Christmas.

Excerpts From Santa's Mailbag

 Opinion | thepilot.com

It’s that time of year again — the time when we dip into some leaked selections from Santa’s mailbag:

Dear Santa:

It’s been a really scary year, what with attacks on Paris and ISIS killing all those people in the Middle East and everything. So we’ve decided that the only thing to do as the governing body of the greatest country in the world is run away from the world, turn our backs on people in need, and hide under our beds.

Problem is, Santa, we’re not as young as we used to be, and some of us have put on a little weight. So what we’d like are higher beds to hide under.

— The U.S. Congress

Note to staff: Please arrange to have all of these fraidy cats receive a Bible with the passages about “for I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me,” etc., underlined. Thanks.

Note to Santa: We’re on it, boss. By the way, those ISIS guys sent a letter. Said they knew they were on the permanent naughty list, but they didn’t care, because the Americans were giving them everything they wanted anyway. Man, those guys have more loose screws than an Erector Set.

Dear Santa:

I know you’d probably think I don’t need anything, because I’m very, very rich. I’m super-rich, in fact, and the reason is because I’m also the smartest person you or anyone else has ever met. Not only that, everybody loves me. People can’t wait to tell me what a great guy I am. Oh, and I have a daughter so hot, I’d date her if I wasn’t her dad.

But there is one thing you can get for me. I know there’s a tape somewhere of thousands and thousands of Muslims cheering in New Jersey as the Twin Towers fell on 9/11. Problem is, no one can seem to find it. Everybody tells me that I’m making it up, but I can’t be, because I have the world’s greatest memory.

So rustle that recording up for me, will you? Chop chop, fat boy. I haven’t got all day.

— Donald, New York City

Note to staff: I don’t know what kind of meds it’s going to take to stabilize Donny, but order him up a truckload.

Dear Santa:

I know we’re getting close to Christmas, and you really need my wish list, but all the polling data isn’t in yet on what I should want, and some of my advisers haven’t gotten back from their Thanksgiving break ski trips to let me know what gift requests will play best in Iowa and New Hampshire. So I’m going to have to get back to you.

— Hillary, Chappaqua, New York

Note to staff: I know this letter should probably disturb me, but I find it kind of charming that she apparently sat down and hand-wrote it.

Note to Santa: C’mon, boss, you think she’s going anywhere near an email account these days?

Dear Santa:

I don’t want much. I just want people to know who I am, and that I’m still running for president.

— Jim, Richmond, Virginia

Note to staff: I hate to admit it, but I made my list, and I’ve checked it twice, and I still have no idea who this guy is.

Note to Santa: Jim Gilmore. Used to be governor of Virginia. And don’t worry, no one else knows him either.

Dear Santa:

I don’t want anything for myself. Really. But I want everyone to have free public college tuition. And a single payer health plan that will ensure that no person has to worry about going bankrupt if they get sick. And a living wage for everyone, because no one who’s working full time should be living in poverty. I don’t think this is too much to ask.

— Bernie, Burlington, Vermont

Note to staff: Who does this guy think he is? Me? Ho ho ho.

Note to Santa: Actually, boss, the other elves and I have been meaning to talk to you about the whole wage thing. Look, I like sugarplums as much as the next elf, but you can’t buy stuff with them. Not to mention that our diabetes risk is through the roof these days. Even Henry Ford said he wanted his workers to earn enough wages to buy the cars they made for him. You see where I’m going with this?

— Hermie

Note to staff: The unemployment line?

Note to Santa: Oh, right. You going to load the sleigh yourself? The reindeer are backing us up on this, by the way.

Note to staff: OK, OK. We’ll talk. After Christmas?

Note to Santa: It’s a date. Merry Christmas, boss.

Christmas Music For People Who Hate Christmas Music

The Pilot Newspaper: Opinion

Christmas is a time that brings people together. At least that’s the theory. In reality, there’s one thing that can often lead to stress and disharmony at this time of year.

I’m talking, of course, about Christmas music.

Some people love it, some people hate it. Even in my own family, there’s a sharp divide. I enjoy Christmas music (only if played after Thanksgiving, of course), while my daughter regards it as only slightly less agonizing than bamboo shoots under the fingernails. (Her reaction when I mentioned I was including her in this column: “Great, now everyone in town will hate me, too.”)

Part of the problem I think some people have with Christmas music is the repetitiveness of the standard Yuletide catalog. Even though I’m a fan, I confess that after about the 50th different rendition of “Do You Hear What I Hear” or “Little Drummer Boy,” I start to grow weary. So the secret is to change it up. Listen to something a little more off the beaten track. Songs like:

 Bob Dylan, “Must Be Santa.” Yes, folks, Dylan did a Christmas album. It’s called “Christmas in the Heart,” and it’s one of the stranger things you’ll hear anywhere. The album’s single, with accompanying video, sounds like a polka version of this staple of elementary school Christmas programs, rendered in Dylan’s signature croak.

The video features a house full of revelers, with Dylan wandering in and out of the frame with his long hair in his face, looking like a crazed street person. The whole thing culminates in a fight that ends with someone crashing through a window. It has to be heard (and seen) to be believed.

 The Eagles’ rendition of the old classic “Please Come Home For Christmas” has become a standard on rock radio for the holiday season. But check out Charles Brown’s 1960 original. All due respect to Mr. Don Henley and the other Eagles, but Brown’s version is way more soulful and wistful than theirs could ever be, especially on the lines “My baby’s gone, I have no friends/to wish me greetings once again.” If you’re missing someone at Christmas, this is the song for you.

 Robert Earl Keen, “Merry Christmas From the Family.” This redneck holiday anthem has it all: alcohol (“Mom got drunk and Dad got drunk/at our Christmas party”); family tension (“Little Sister brought her new boyfriend/he was a Mexican”); followed by acceptance (“We didn’t know what to think about him/till he sang ‘Feliz Navidad’”).

It has the inevitable mishaps (“When they plugged their motorhome in/they blew our Christmas lights”), followed by resolution and family togetherness (“Cousin David knew just what went wrong/So we all waited out on our front lawn/He threw the breaker and the lights came on/And we sang ‘Silent Night.’”) Bring tears to your eyes, don’t it?

;

 The Waitresses, “Christmas Wrapping.” This minor hit by one of the forgotten bands of the ’80s tells the story of a single girl in the city, frazzled by a tough year and a series of missed connections with a “most interesting” guy. The narrator decides to spend her Christmas relaxing alone (“I just need to catch my breath/Christmas by myself this year”).

Well, you can see where this is heading: toward a coincidental last-minute meeting (“You mean you forgot cranberries too?”) with the aforementioned guy, and a “very happy ending.” It’s a charming little romantic comedy, told in a concise five minutes, with a killer horn break.

 New York “Beer Metal” band Guyz Nite wrote and performed a song that’s a tribute to the greatest Christmas movie ever made: “Die Hard.” The song of the same name tracks the original story from the beginning (“Remember when we first met John McLain?/Argyle picked him up from the plane”) and follows it up to the triumphant refrain, where the band joyfully carols the movie’s signature line: “Yippie-Ky-Yaaay, mother-[bad word]!” Actually, you might not want to play this one for Grandma.

Hallelujah, everybody say cheese, and Merry Christmas from the family, to all those who keep it.

It's That Time of Year Again: The PWoC Returns

The Pilot Newspaper: Opinion

Yes, it’s November, folks, and we all know what that means. It means it’s time for Christmas decorations to start appearing on the shelves and in the streets. It’s time for Christmas commercials to begin showing up on TV. And it’s time for loud (and ultimately useless) grousing about how awful it is that all this is happening when it’s not even Thanksgiving yet.

All of this is followed, as the night follows the day, by the annual Phony War on Christmas (PWOC), that yearly ritual in which the most privileged class of people (white, straight Christians) in the most privileged country on Earth get to whine about how they’re being oppressed because someone wished them “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas.”

As always, the first cries of woe came from our old friends at the Resentment Channel, aka Fox “News.” Bill O’Reilly, whose platoons of researchers apparently comb the Interwebs looking for stories to spin up into new occasions for right-wing butthurt, announced, in his words, “the first salvo in the war on Christmas.”

In one school district in Maryland, O’Reilly said indignantly, “there will be no mention of Christmas or any other religious holiday on the school calendars going forward. That’s because a Muslim did something!”



Now, you may be thinking, “Doggone those Muslims! Now they’ve gotten Christmas banned! Is there no end to their perfidy?” Not so fast. What “a Muslim” (actually several local Muslim leaders) did in Montgomery County, Maryland, was ask for a day off for one of their own religious holidays, known as Eid al-Adha or “feast of the sacrifice.” They were certainly not asking that there be no Christmas.

I imagine they didn’t expect the school board’s reaction, which was to totally punt on the issue and remove all religious designations from the school holidays, both Christian and Jewish. It was a decision which satisfied no one.

Note well that the Christian and Jewish holidays themselves are still there: Everyone still gets the same time off for Christmas and Easter, as well as the High Holy Days of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. It’s just that Christmas vacation happens over what’s now called “winter break.” Easter vacation is where it’s always been, during “spring break.” As for the Jewish holidays, they’re
designated as days of “no school for students and teachers,” according to a report in the Washington Post. So the kids still have the same holidays they had before, to celebrate in any way they and their families see fit. 

You’d think that would placate Mr. O’Reilly and his colleagues. You’d think that, that is, if you’d been living in a cave without TV for the last 20 years and were unfamiliar with Mr. O’Reilly’s shtick. This board decision, he groused, was “wiping out” all our traditions. “They’re wiping out — you know Christmas and Easter and Passover, these have a Judeo-Christian tradition in our country,” he said. “So they just wiped out all our traditions for these people.”

Actually, “they’ve” done no such thing. While calling the break at the end of the year “Christmas break” is something we may have gotten used to over the years, I seriously doubt that anyone regards how it’s designated on the written school calendar crumpled up in the bottom of Junior’s backpack as one of their fondly embraced traditions.

In any case, I strongly suspect that students and parents will still refer to the holidays as “Christmas break” and “Easter break,” and no one will try to stop them. All will still be allowed to participate in their real traditional observances of the season, such as trampling their fellow celebrants on Black Friday so as to snag the last of the “door buster” 50-inch TVs for $199 at Best Buy.

I’ve noticed that there doesn’t seem to be a lot of outcry from Jewish people over the Montgomery County School Board decision, even though their holidays got the same treatment as the Christian ones. Perhaps this is because Jewish folks, having actually been the recent targets of horrific and genocidal persecution, are less inclined to get their knickers in a twist over what some school board calls a holiday.

It’s a lesson some people could stand to learn. If the thing that makes you indignant is a faraway school board calling the end-of-the-year vacation the “winter” rather than the “Christmas” break, or the thing you feel the burning need to protest is someone using “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas,” then I submit that you’ve actually got life pretty good and should just be thankful for that, it being the season for thanksgiving and all.

One Last Papal Duty....

Latest Newspaper Column:

The scene: A tiny, cramped office in the Human Resources Department at Vatican City.
The time: Last week.

HR GUY: Come in, come in, take a seat. I promise this won't take long, sir.

SOON TO BE EX-POPE BENEDICT: I don't know why I have to do this. I didn't even know the Vatican HAD an HR department. And it's "Your Holiness," not sir.

HR GUY: Oh, right, right. Sorry, Your Holiness. It's been 600 years since a pope has left the position while still alive. We're kind of feeling our way here. "Former Holiness" just doesn't work. 'Holiness Emeritus" just sounds weird.

BENEDICT: (Frostily) I agree.

HR GUY: Oh, dear, I feel like we've gotten off on the wrong foot here. Look, Your Holiness, I know this is awkward, and I'll try to make it quick. But, you know, rules are rules. And the rules say, everyone leaving employment has to do an exit interview.

BENEDICT: A what?

HR GUY: Just a few questions to help improve our workplace environment.

BENEDICT: Our workplace environment? This is the priesthood, young man! It's a life of service, sacrifice, suffering and devotion!

HR GUY: Well ... we're trying to sort of soft-pedal that part, if you don't mind. It's really murder on the employee retention rates.

BENEDICT: Oh, for the love of...
 
HR GUY: What was that, Your Holiness?

BENEDICT: Never mind. Ask your questions, and let's get this over with.

HR GUY: OK, great. So why would you say you're leaving your job?

BENEDICT: I think I've made it pretty clear. I'm old. I'm not feeling well. And there are all sorts of challenges facing the Church right now. The fuss over the cover-up of sex abuse by priests, the whole Vatican Bank money-laundering thing, the giant death asteroid, the new book coming out by that Dan Brown guy ...

HR GUY: Wait, back up. Did you say something about a giant death asteroid?

BENEDICT: Did I? Dang. This is why I need to quit. I keep blurting stuff out.

HR GUY: No, really. What about the giant death asteroid?

BENEDICT: Calm down, my child. It's nothing. I totally did not have a vision in which God told me that a giant asteroid was going to wipe out 75 percent of all life on Earth at 9:17 p.m. on New Year's Eve this year and bring about a new Dark Age.

HR GUY: Oh. Whew. That's a relief.

BENEDICT: You're not very bright, are you?

HR GUY: What?

BENEDICT: Nothing. Next question.

HR GUY: What would you say was your favorite part of being pope?

BENEDICT: I'd have to say the hat. I think I really look great in hats. And the shoes, of course.

HR GUY: Oh. Yeah. About the shoes. We're going to need those back.

BENEDICT: What? Not my red shoes!

HR GUY: I'm afraid so, Your Holiness. Only the pope himself can wear the red slippers
.
BENEDICT: But these are my favorite shoes ever! They're the only ones I have that don't hurt my corns! Look! Look at these feet!

HR GUY: Ahhhh! Gross!

BENEDICT: What?

HR GUY: Horrible old-man feet! Please, Your Holiness! I beg you! Put the shoes back on!

BENEDICT: So I can keep them?

HR GUY: We'll make new ones. Just ... wear the shoes around the house, OK? It'll be our little secret. But please, put them back on.

BENEDICT: OK, good.

HR GUY (shuddering): So, moving on. What was your least favorite part of the job?

BENEDICT: Hmmm. I'd say having to work on Christmas.

HR GUY: Really? You had a problem with that?

BENEDICT: Not a problem, exactly. I mean, celebrating the Midnight Mass and doing the homily for all those people is nice, but I'm looking forward to kicking back and spending a nice quiet Christmas Eve with a cup of eggnog and the "Charlie Brown Christmas" DVD.

HR GUY: Oh, that is a good one.

BENEDICT: And afterward, maybe "Die Hard."

HR GUY: I love that movie!

BENEDICT: Well, come on over to the residence this December. I'm only moving around the block a ways. We'll open a bottle of wine, watch some good TV.

HR GUY: Me, Your Holiness? I'd be so honored.

BENEDICT: Might as well. It's the last one any of us will have for a long while.

HR GUY: What?

BENEDICT: Nothing, my child. Nothing.

Letters From Santa's Mailbag

Latest Newspaper Column:

Once again, we bring you another beloved holiday tradition: selections from Santa's mailbag.

Dear Santa: OK, so I went on Fox News predicting a 325-electoral-vote Romney landslide. And yeah, I did it over and over, with complete confidence. As you probably heard, that didn't exactly pan out. But is it fair that the TV network that's more of a home to me than my own living room says that they're going to stop having me on? I mean, Bill Kristol's wrong all the time too, and he gets his phone calls returned.

I  need work, Santa, and fast. The hookers say they're going to start charging me double if I'm not on TV.

- Dick Morris, somewhere in hiding

(Note to staff: Send Dick a copy of "Polling For Dummies.")

Dear Santa: I have to say, I've had a pretty good year. I won the election by a comfortable margin. We kept the Senate and made gains in the House. The Republicans are in disarray and starting to turn on each other.

I've got the upper hand in these budget negotiations, since all I have to do is wait for all the tax cuts to expire, then ask the House to introduce a cut that only includes the middle class and dare the Republicans to vote against it. The economy continues to get better. I guess what I'm saying is, I'm good for this year, and I don't really need anything for myself. Well, maybe some socks.

- Barack Obama, Washington, D.C.

(Note to staff: Get the guy some socks. It's the least we can do.)

Dear Santa, you socialist piece of [censored]: The soulless fools who voted for economic and spiritual suicide this past November may want stuff from you, like support for their obesity booze cellphones birth control abortions. But let me tell you something, you commie pinko [censored]!

I'm a free American, and I don't want any [censored] handouts from anyone, especially some [censored] who dresses up in red and sneaks into people's houses at night. So stay the [censored] away from my house, you got that, fatso? I mean it. I've got guns. Lots of them.

- Ted Nugent, Michigan

(Note to staff: Goodness. This is one angry fellow. Can we maybe bring him some nice warm milk or some meds or something to calm him down?)

(Note to Santa: No can do, boss. The reindeer refuse to go near his place after Dasher nearly took a crossbow bolt in the haunch.)

Dearest Father Christmas: Warm regards from her Royal Highness, the Duchess of Cambridge. I trust you have been made aware of the recent good news regarding Her Royal Highness' delicate condition.

Her only wishes for this Christmas season are that the people of the British Isles enjoy greater peace and prosperity, and that, if possible, you could provide something to ensure she is not, as I believe the Americans put it, blowing chunks every 10 minutes. With best wishes for the holidays and for the New Year, I am, very truly yours,

- Percy Uppington-Smythe, Personal Assistant.

(Note to staff: Poor kid. Hard enough being pregnant and sick, but I can't imagine having to deal with those ghastly in-laws of hers. Send her a keg of ginger ale to settle her stomach.)

Dear Santa: Who is this guy in the White House? We'd gotten used to a president who started his negotiating from the center-right and just kept giving us what we wanted so we could demand more.

This guy, this so-called "second-term" Obama, acts like he's actually got a backbone. He's demanding that we agree to the things he ran on and that people voted for! You'd think he'd won the election or something! We want the old, pliable, easily bullied Barack Obama back! If we don't get it, I might start crying again. I'm warning you.

-John Boehner, Washington, D.C.

(Note to staff: Sorry, looks like that model's been discontinued.)

Dear Santa: Please bring me a new iPad. And an Xbox360. And a Play Station3. And a Wii. And a bunch of movies, books and games, all rated "G" or "PG". And hurry. Mitt Romney, La Jolla, Calif.

(Note to staff: Looks like someone suddenly has a lot of time on his hands.)

(Note from staff: Good thing he doesn't drink, huh?)

(Note to staff: I don't even want to think about it.)

Hope you all get what you want under your tree.

This Year's Holiday Gift Guide

Latest Newspaper Column:

Black Friday is now past. Cyber Monday, when we’re supposed to rush online for the great bargains, is behind us as well. But you’ve still got a few gifts to get for that hard-to-shop-for person on your list.

Well, never fear, gentle readers: As always, your Humble Columnist is here with your Holiday Gift Guide:

— For that right-winger who still can’t seem to face the fact that President Obama actually won the election fair and square, there’s the Wingnut Virtual Reality Helmet.

Slide this bucket-shaped gizmo over your head, and the built-in, form-fitting goggles will broadcast an endless feed of Fox News directly into your eyeballs, while the patented ear buds keep you from hearing any actual facts by filling your ears with a 24/7 feed of right-wing talk radio.

Why go through the painful and messy process of self-examination? Why risk the hard work of changing your attitude and your message when you can bathe in the warm reassurance of people telling you that you were right all along, there’s nothing wrong with your thinking, and it’s Those People who have stolen the country from you?

(Warning: Some users have reported experiencing fear, paranoia and uncontrollable fits of rage from overexposure to Fox News.)

— Depressed and apprehensive about the threatened collapse of the Hostess Company and its fine collection of chemically ageless snack cakes? Sad that your children may never experience the special spongy taste of the Twinkie and its creme-filled goodness? Get them the new Hasbro Easy-Bake Home Twinkie Oven.

Make your very own Ho Hos, Ding Dongs, Mini-Muffins, and of course, classic Twinkies, right there in your own home! Comes with detailed recipes and a special bonus supplement teaching the little ones to blame unions if things don’t come out right because of their incompetence.

(Warning: Handling of some of the preservatives, colorings and artificial flavorings necessary to make these confections may require EPA certification. HazMat suit not included.)

— An important life skill in today’s world is that of being able to make yourself feel better about your life by watching other people who are way more dysfunctional than you.

Which is why the folks at TLC Network have created the perfect learning tool for your little ones: The Honey Boo Boo Action Play Set.

The set contains uproariously lifelike figures of TV’s beloved Shannon/ Thompson clan: Mama, Daddy, Jessica, Anna, Lauryn and, of course, the heavily caffeinated, adorably demented redneck pre-teen beauty queen herself, Alana “Honey Boo Boo Child” Thompson.

Squeeze Alana’s belly fat and hear her say one of the show’s delightful catch phrases, like “a dolla makes me holla!” and “you better redneck-ognize!” Manufacturer is not responsible for the eventual withering of your soul.

— Apps, applications that run on smartphones and some laptop computers, are likely to be huge sellers this year. For those friends or relatives whose casual and unrecognized racism makes you cringe, there’s the Racism Recognition App for iPhone and Android smartphones.

This handy program is voice-activated and delivers a small but noticeable electric shock to people saying certain racist catch-phrases and code words like, “I know it isn’t politically correct to say this, but…”; “Why haven’t we seen Obama’s college transcripts?”; and “Obama doesn’t represent the real America.”

— If you or someone you love is a Christmas Warrior, someone for whom the holiday is not complete unless they can feel persecuted and oppressed by people saying “Happy Holidays” or “Season’s Greetings” instead of “Merry Christmas,” there’s now an entire line of Christmas Warrior cards and decorations.

The cards include such heart-warming messages as “Merry Christmas. Yeah, I Said It. Merry Christmas! So What Are You Going to Do About It, Punk?” For only $99.99, you can get the full-sized nativity scene with all of the characters defiantly flipping off anyone who has a problem with it.

Merry Christmas, Season’s Greetings, Happy Holidays — however you say it — try not to be a jerk about it, OK? And God Bless Us, Every One.

Jesus Probably Wasn't Born Today, But So What?

Latest newspaper column:


Well, here it is, December the 25th. Christmas Day. Since I can assume the first thing most of you did was NOT run out to the driveway, get your copy of The Pilot, and run inside to read this column, I figure the stockings are empty, the presents all opened, the turkey or ham or whatever your choice of holiday meat is either in the midst of cooking or resting comfortably in your tummy. Unless you're Jewish, of course, in which case I hope you have a good day and are enjoying your Hanukkah and the Chinese food.

Some pedantic souls are fond of pointing out that it's highly unlikely, based upon the account in the Gospels, that the actual birth date of Yeshua bar-Yosef, aka Jesus, was December 25th. For instance, shepherds in first century Israel did not  "abide in the fields and watch their flocks by night" in the wintertime; that happened in the spring, when the lambs were born.  In the winter, the sheep were kept corralled, and the shepherds stayed home. The angels would have had to come to the door and knock to announce the birth of the Savior in the City of David,  like some sort of divine Western Union. It's a much less compelling image, to be sure, than the one of the Heavenly Host filling the sky with praises.

No, we're told, the December date was much more likely picked to coincide with (and hopefully take the place of) already existing pagan festivals. They'll point to the fact that sometime in the fourth century A.D. the Roman Emperor Aurelian announced the feast of Sol Invictus (The Unconquered Sun) which took place on December 25th.

Or perhaps the celebration of Christ's birth was meant to occur at the same time as an older Roman holiday, that of Saturnalia, a week-long debauch beginning December 17th. During Saturnalia, people exchanged presents and partied in a fashion that makes even the rowdiest office Christmas party look like an ice-cream social.

In addition, the normal social order was turned upside down; masters served their slaves at the dinner table, and the slaves could boss them around for a change--carefully, one would imagine, since they'd be back on the bottom of the pile next week.

Others suggest that our Christmas was meant to overlap Yule or other Northern European holidays celebrating the Winter Solstice. Those are the holidays from which we get our traditions of bringing evergreen plants indoors, of mistletoe, and of the blazing Yule log (fa-la-lalala, and all that).

I think, however, that the argument  that late December isn't the "real" date of Jesus' birth and that it's really just a date co-opted from paganism kind of misses the point. All of those seasonal pagan celebrations have one thing in common: they take place during the coldest and darkest time of the year in the Northern Hemisphere, the time when the night seems endless, the cold seems eternal, and it seems as if nothing will ever grow again. But they don't curse or bemoan the darkness; they look forward to the return of the light. They're celebrated with candles and firelight and evergreens. They remind us that however long the winter may seem, spring always comes back. They're holidays dedicated to hope when everything looks hopeless.

 And that's why it's the perfect time to celebrate the birth of Jesus, no matter if it's more likely that He was born sometime in the spring. Whatever your belief as to the divinity of the person known as Jesus, it's undeniable that He was born at a time of great darkness and cruelty, in a country beneath the boot of an empire so brutal that they routinely nailed people to pieces of rough wood then hung them up to die slowly as punishment. And yet, His  message was one of peace, of healing, of love, and of hope. It was a message of light in the darkness.

So, no matter what your beliefs, or lack of same, I wish all those things for you today.