Donald Trump, flanked by eight lighted trees, promised us he’d bring back Christmas.
“You know what I’m going to say to start off? Merry Christmas,” Trump said at Veterans Memorial Coliseum in Cedar Rapids back in December 2015.
“You don’t hear it any more. This is all about Christmas, and having a good holiday. That’s what it’s all about,” Trump said, gesturing to the trees, lamenting what he saw as a politically correct aversion to even uttering “Christmas” on the part of retailers, etc.
“They’ll start saying merry Christmas again, folks, believe me,” he said, if he won.
He later departed to the strains of Andy Williams belting out “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the year.”
And you know what? Trump did it. He brought back Christmas. In fact, thanks in no small part to our president, I want my merry Christmas now.
Right (beeping) now.
Last week, satellite radio fired up its Christmas music channels. In the past, I would have rolled my eyes. Ridiculous. Way too early. Madness.
This year, I’m cranking it up. Sing it, Bing. Beats listening to madness on NPR, cringing all the way.
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I say wrap the house in twinkle lights. Fell the mighty firs. Deck the halls. Strike the harp and join the chorus.
Spike the eggnog. Mull the wine. Smoke the bishop. Figgy the pudding.
It’s dark out there folks, very, very dark, and getting darker. Light candles. Fire up the yule log. Roast the chestnuts. Buy another “clean” coal-scuttle before you dot another “i.”
Colder? Sadder? Older? Check. Check. Check.
For me, this is not at all normal. I’m a staunch Thanksgiving guy. No tinsel before turkey. Holidays will progress in an orderly fashion. No cuts. Four weeks of peppermint pap is enough.
But right now I’m feeling like Clark Griswold receiving his Jelly of the Month Club bonus. We’re in critical need of the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since, well, you’ll have to consult the movie.
“Take a look around you, Ellen. We’re at the threshold of hell!” Griswold opined, presciently.
Hallelujah. Where’s the Tylenol?
Calm and bright sound pretty good right now. Might be a nice change from endless chaos wrought by dim bulbs.
All our troubles will be out of sight? Beats having them swirling all around us like a bewildering blizzard.
Gentlemen, reportedly merry, and in no way dismayed? Gotta be fake news.
Desperate for some fresh leadership? I nominate Good King Wenceslas.
“Therefore, Christian men, be sure, wealth or rank possessing. Ye, who now will bless the poor shall yourselves find blessing,” the good king tweets.
Or slash the inheritance tax for millionaires. Your call.
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I’m not saying we should abandon the night’s watch or become blinded by shiny yuletide baubles while democracy dies in darkness. Not at all. Remain vigilant.
But let’s just make a little room for the North Pole alongside North Korea. Sure, we’re ignoring climate change, but who knows, there may still be snow, or torrential rain, sleetnadoes, or a polar vortex. Regardless, have a cup of cheer. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer could offer us a nice break from Russia the red-handed election meddler.
I know, I know, Washington is an island of misfit toys. Wealthy donors are mining the tax code for silver and gold like Yukon Cornelius. Abominable bumbles are in charge of several key departments. But take heart, the special counsel’s office will not be closed for the holidays.
We need more jingle bells and fewer news alerts. Otherwise, we all might end up with a Charlie-Brown-sized case of pantophobia. The fear of everything.
So what if it’s early? Start saying merry Christmas. Have a good holiday. Make it great again. That’s what it’s all about, according to the big guy in the red tie. This truly is the most wonderful time of the year, if only in your tweet-free dreams.
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