This Year's Holiday Gift Guide

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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.

Holiday Correctness

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Now that Thanksgiving is done and the shopping frenzy of Black Friday has passed, we are well and truly into the Christmas season.

At this time of loving, giving and maniacal consumption, let's not forget that there are some people for whom this time of year is particularly difficult. I'm speaking, of course, about people who suffer from SWORS: Spasmodic Wingnut Outrage Syndrome.

People with SWORS have it tough during the holiday season. Even the mention of the word "holiday," however innocent, can trigger an attack of SWORS:

NORMAL PERSON: Happy Holidays, Mr. Gundermeyer!

SWORS SUFFERER: You mean "Merry Christmas."

NORMAL PERSON: Oh. Sure.

SWORS SUFFERER: Say it! Say Merry Christmas! SAY IT! SAY IT!

NORMAL PERSON: OK! OK! Merry Christmas! Just don't hit me, please!

Good will toward men, indeed.

Like the shopping season, the SWORS season seems to begin ­earlier every year. This year, the first company to be attacked was that mainstay of the American ­shopping mall, The Gap. The American Family Association, a hotbed of SWORS infection if ever there was one, got cranky about not seeing any mentions of "Christmas" in Gap advertising. Perhaps the fact that it was early November may have had something to do with it, but nevertheless, the AFA called for a boycott.

A few days later, The Gap responded by releasing one of those ads that seems destined to go down as one of the most annoying ever, the kind of ad that makes you dive for the remote and fumble for the "Mute" button. "Go Christmas!" chirps an insanely peppy group of dancing teenagers, dressed, of course, in Gap clothing.

Now, you'd think that mentioning Christmas right up from there would serve to soothe the riled-up nerves of the SWORS-afflicted. A SWORS sufferer, however, looks at every olive branch as if it contains a nest of tarantulas. And in this case, the fact that the group also chants "Go Hanukkah, Go Kwanzaa, go solstice!" seems to have nullified whatever palliative effect was intended. "It seems like a desperate attempt to get every possible demographic to shop in their stores," sniffed The Dallas Republican Examiner.

Now, to the non-SWORS-infected, it would seem obvious that the whole point of having a store would be to get as many people as possible in the door. And most normal people realize that when they hit the stores to do their shopping, they'll be right there alongside "every possible demographic," including Jews, African-Americans and the sort of person who likes to go on and on about "solstice."

One of the tragic things about SWORS, however, is the feeling of deep resentment and bitterness that its victims experience at the very thought that someone may look, feel, or believe differently than they do, coupled with a paranoid certainty that those "other people" are getting more of life's goodies than they are.

While it's certainly easy for a nonsufferer to be annoyed by people with SWORS, it's important to keep in mind that these are people with an illness. They just can't help themselves, and the problem is only made worse by the plethora of high-profile wingnut media figures who, like crack dealers, make themselves fat and rich by feeding other peoples' disease.

It is a shame that SWORS spoils people's appreciation of the things that all people, whatever their beliefs, celebrate during this season. Things like peace, hope, good will, generosity and reflection on what's really important in life.

It seems even more a shame that they have to inflict their lunacy on the rest of us. But in this time of comfort and joy, take a moment to talk to someone who suffers from SWORS. Put your arm around them, look into their angry, troubled eyes, and say those simple words that mean so much at this time of year:

"Lighten the hell up, will ya?"

Happy Holidays to you and yours.

No Retreat, No Surrender

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Well, friends, I hope you enjoyed your Thanksgiving. I hope you had a fine time and good fellowship with friends and family, and that you had occasion to reflect upon all of the things for which we should be truly thankful.

And I hope you got some rest.

Because, dear readers, we are faced with desperate times. We have a great battle upon us, and I hope you won't think I'm overstating the case when I tell you it's a battle more desperate than the Alamo, the Siege of Khe Sanh, Stalingrad and the stand of the 300 Spartans at Thermopylae combined.

I'm speaking, of course, of the War On Christmas.

You know the one I'm talking about. It's the battle fought every year against the forces of secular socialist progressive liberalism and their fiendish campaign to replace the word "Christmas" with the word "Holiday" in our commercial discourse. Because, as we know, any time someone says "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas," a little bit of America dies.

Don't just take my word for it. No less an authority than Wall Street Journal Deputy Editor Daniel Henninger has warned us that the current collapse of the financial sector has its real roots, not in years of failed Bush financial policies, but in the disappearance of "Merry Christmas."

"What really went missing through the subprime mortgage years," Henninger writes, "were the three Rs: responsibility, restraint and remorse. ... Responsibility and restraint are moral sentiments. Remorse is a product of conscience. None of these grow on trees. Each must be learned, taught, passed down. And so we come back to the disappearance of 'Merry Christmas.'"

If Christmas, Henninger cautions, becomes the holiday "that dare not speak its name," then "we are erasing the chalk lines. ... Go ahead. Banish Merry Christmas. Get ready for Mad Max."

Now this might sound like insane gibberish to some, especially if, like me, you've never in your entire life met a single person of any religious persuasion who claims to be offended or insulted by the words "Merry Christmas."

But let's not forget, this man is a deputy editor of one of the nation's most prestigious newspapers. And if he says that the use of "Happy Holidays" is going to lead to the collapse of civilization and leave us all running around in the desert driving souped-up vehicles, wearing leather bondage gear, and fighting to the death over a few drops of gasoline, then perhaps we should listen. I'm betting that it's the forces of secular socialist progressive liberalism (hereinafter referred to as the FOSSPL) that have kept him from being a full editor. Those guys are everywhere.

So, in these dark times, where is our champion? Where is our leader in the fight to save Christmas? Our General Patton, our Lone Ranger, our Gandalf?

Where is Bill O'Reilly?

I did some more research on the Internet (and by "research," I mean "idly wasting time while pretending to be working on this column"), trying to find out what Mr. O'Reilly has been up to in his valiant battle against the anti-Christmas hordes.

My friends, what I saw shocked me. Appalled me. I was aghast. I was agog. It seems that Bill O'Reilly, sworn enemy of the word "holiday" in regard to the Yuletide celebration, had been co-opted by the FOSSPL. There, big as life on the O'Reilly.com Web site, was Bill's -- I
shudder to even say it -- "Holiday" reading list.

Say it ain't so, Bill-o!

And the news gets worse. Focus on the Family, the religious group that's provided such a valuable early-warning system for "Holiday"-based threats to America's Christmas, announced recently it was laying off more than 200 staffers, citing "the faltering economy and a decline in donations."

So is the traditional American Christmas, in which we celebrate the birth of Our Lord with paranoia, a chronic persecution complex, and bullying people over imagined slights, a thing of the past? Is this a world in which fear-mongering is no longer profitable?

I can't believe it. I won't believe it! We are going to carry on the fight. We shall fight them in the malls. We shall fight them in the Walmarts. We shall fight them in the PetSmarts and Best Buys. We shall never surrender. We will bring the true spirit of Christmas back to this country if we have to cram it down the throat of every man, woman and child in it.

God bless us, every one.

Dusty Rhoades lives, writes, practices law, and celebrates Christmas in Carthage.