Season's Gratings

Christmas in America. That special season when our country comes together in a religious ecstasy of inspired shopping. That magical time of year when Catholics remember why they're Catholics, when Methodists remember why they're not Catholics, Presbyterians remember why they keep remembering, Jews remember that they forgot to remember, Southern Californians remember why they don't live in Northern Canada, and Baptists remember where the church is.

Secular humanists are getting into the holiday spirit, too, mostly by getting into fights. Christians go to church; humanists go to court. Secular humanists (literal translation: "Followers of Sec") spend a lot of time at tony, upper-East-Side cocktail parties, insisting that all six of them are right, and everybody else is wrong. When they're not suing people, they pony up to buy ads and paste them on public transportation, ads which employ iron-clad debating tactics and bubbly bromides: "No God? No problem!" and "Who needs a god? Just be good for goodness' sake!"

Hard to argue with that logic, especially if your definition of eternity is "grandfathered rent control."

Festive Factoid: Sec, a mythical figure from American Southwest folklore, was the patron saint of Margaritas. He was a large, loud character with three heads and breath that could skin a small goat. According to legend, this three-headed nuisance was often referred to as "Triple Sec."

So here we go again. Christmas in America. Between the bullying and bickering, the whimpering and whining, the apologizing and accommodating, we deck the halls. During dulling "separation of church and state" arguments, we trim the tree. 'Neath festive icicles drips fervent indignation.

I don't know if I'm ready for another season of anti-season protesting. C'mon, America.

In one American town, a disgruntled family removed a tree from a school. The tree wasn't even decorated, for Sec's sake. It was just a tree. Potentially offensive, I guess. Just in case, I suppose. We wouldn't want somebody sneaking in and slinging an ornament on it.

C'mon, America. Christmas is reverent, and relevant, and fun. And Christmas is an integral part of America. Literally. Did you know there's a town called Christmas, Florida? And a Christmas, Kentucky? (There's also a Hell, Michigan, but the Followers of Sec don't believe it exists.)

Festive Factoid: Florida also has a town called Chicken Head. Well, of course it does.

Arizona has both a Christmas and a Humbug, which could go a long way toward explaining John McCain's 2008 campaign strategy. Oklahoma has a North Pole, and scattered across America are cities named Rudolph, Dasher, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen. Dancer and Prancer were once cities, too, but they were caught crafting a Christmas crèche, so those towns were run out of town.

In cities all across America, Christmas affects people, one way or another. Recently, in an Atlanta mall, a 40-year-old man dressed as an elf triggered a commerce-interrupting panic when he told the mall Santa that he had a bag full of dynamite. Even more odd, the 40-year-old was sitting on Santa's lap at the time. Santa was hauled in for questioning by Child Protection Services.

Festive Factoid: Speaking of cities, I understand there's a Wiseman in Arkansas. (Recent Arkansas political history notwithstanding)

And nobody decorates for Christmas like us Americans, even the Michiganites in suburban Hell. Right here in my neighborhood, there's an 8-foot-tall, inflatable Santa Claus. Fine. But this Santa has a transparent tummy, and inside Santa's belly is a small grinning Nordic mammal. That's just wrong.

Another context-challenged, nog-inspired neighbor has deployed every single lawn ornament ever created. Driving by, one sees Santa and Seuss' Grinch, angels and gnomes, carolers and confused antebellum archetypes. Over here is the entire cast of 'Bambi.' Over there are three overdressed Wise Men, chatting up Snow White. Reindeer root around in the Bethlehem manger, antler-to-snout with Porky the Pig. Nearby, a shepherd lies prone on the lawn, possibly imbued during an over-zealous Margarita ritual. And I still don't get the connection between Christmas and the seven Disney dwarves.

The economy's not helping, either. A few days ago, our President personally threw the switch to light the capitol's Christmas tree and then declared, "It works!" Gape-jawed throngs fell to their knees in front of the miracle, including 5 of the 6 humanists. And once word got out that the tree had a job, 10 million unemployed Americans rushed to have themselves reclassified as "hardwood."

Santa's elves (North Pole Local #26) struck for overtime wages and refused to wrap another gift until they were guaranteed Universal Elf Care.

Festive Factoid: Not long back, Nancy Pelosi, who smiles so much that I wonder about her limbic system, declared Universal Health Care a "Christmas present for America." This caused three locals from Wiseman, Oklahoma, to start following a star. But it wasn't a star; a galactic Unmitigated-Gall-O-Meter had simply overloaded, and it blew up.

And just last week, economists calculated that it would cost $87,403 (in 2009 dollars) to buy all the gifts enumerated in "The Twelve Days of mas," if America still had any dollars.

And speaking of pipers piping: I love Christmas music, even when stores start piping it at us before Labor Day. But it can get out of hand. Earlier this week, I heard REO Speedwagon doing a cover of "Silent Night." That's just wrong. I wanted to throw a penalty flag, but the University of Georgia Bulldogs football team had already used up all the penalties in the known universe.

REO Speedwagon singing "Silent Night." That's like Sinatra, in punk boots, spandex pants and an open Hawaiian shirt, shoo-be-doo-ing his way through the Rolling Stones' "Can't You Hear Me Knocking." A thing like that could put you right off the egg nog.

Festive Factoid: Congress issued an injunction against Santa Claus, insisting the jolly fellow use green-friendly energy instead of coal. In an unrelated story involving a neighborhood watch group in Chicken Neck, Florida, Frosty the Snowman was hauled in for questioning by Child Protection Services.

And when I got home today, I found that the Followers of Sec had cut down all the trees in my yard.

Just in case.

Merry Ethno-Generic Fully Optional Deity-Nonspecific Seasonal Timespan!