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A joyous America gets Saddam Hussein for Christmas,
though to quote a captured Confederate soldier whose name is lost to
history, “what a git you got.” I’m as happy as the next guy but a
living, breathing Saddam may just be the gift that keeps on giving.
This is one present that should stay tightly wrapped.
*****
Ah, the telltale signs of winter: a nip in the air,
frost on the ground, and the empty drawer where my socks used to
be. My daughter has been driven to my dresser by the chill, not
unlike the mice from the nearby orchard, though they prefer the
kitchen. Unfortunately there isn’t a mousetrap big enough to
protect my woolies so I end up with whatever mismatched pair I can
cobble together. She had promised to give them back for my
birthday, which may not sound particularly generous but cold feet
are cold feet. Oh well. There’s still Christmas.
*****
World Net Daily reports California now requires a
license to trap mice. The law applies to “furbearing mammals or
non-game animals,” including mice, rats, gophers and moles. A state
spokesman claims the law won’t be enforced against those wishing to
trap mice for “personal use,” whatever the heck that might be.
We’re talking California here. Fortunately the law is silent on
snaring sock thieves.
*****
OK pal, keep your hands up and back away from the
fruitcake. The Canadian Air Transport Security Authority has
advised holiday travelers to leave their fruitcakes at home this
year because airport X‑ray machines can’t penetrate them. They’re
afraid someone might hide a bazooka in one, I guess. Glad I won’t
be traveling by air because although fruitcake jokes are good for a
cheap laugh, I genuinely like the stuff. Really. No punch line
here, honest …
*****
… but speaking of fruitcakes, People for the Ethical
Treatment of Animals is celebrating the season with billboards
showing the Virgin Mary cuddling a dead chicken. According to
Associated Press, the caption reads “Go Vegetarian. It’s an
Immaculate Conception.” Not really, but the tactic is pretty slick:
buy space on a couple of billboards and let the media do the rest.
I know, I’m spreading the word here, but what can I do? In
atonement, there will be no chicken on the family table this
Christmas. I’m just glad Mary wasn’t snuggling a prime rib.
*****
One of the things I love about my wife is that she shops
like a man: go, grab, pay, and leave. I have long known she is
exceptional, but research conducted by Germany’s University of
Kassel proves it, finding that the area of a woman’s brain that
handles rational thought shuts down during shopping sprees. They
blame evolution of course, claiming level-headedness got in the way
of cave women foraging, or something like that. Not sure what use
hunter-gatherers would have for 50 pairs of high heels even if they
could have found a Nordstrom.
*****
Deck the dog whose name is Ollie, fa la la la la, la la
la la. Our pug Ollie, who looks more like the flying monkeys in
“The Wizard of Oz” than anything Santa might recognize, absolutely
loves the strap-on antlers my daughter bought her. The only thing
stranger is that someone would think to buy antlers for a dog.
Maybe there’s something to that brain shutting down thing.
*****
The New Zealand town of Mosgiel will not allow children
to sit on Santa’s lap this year for fear of lawsuits. According to
the news agency AFP, a local official claims the ban is “ridiculous
but necessary.” It’s been necessary to be ridiculous in the United
States for years, though our brand of political correctness hasn’t
reached Santa’s lap. Just an oversight, I’m sure.
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