Holidays - What Does Not Kill You Makes You Stronger

What do you suppose Paris Hilton wants for Christmas?

I recently read in the New York Post (sometimes I like to go slumming – what can I say?) that the girl who is Famous For Being Famous just wants "… a man to fall in love with, one for life. Someone that I can start a family with."

Of course right around the same time as Paris made this comment, she was running around the clubs of Europe with no underpants and a variety of boy-toys, then posing for a new wine ad wearing nothing but a coat of gold latex and a few paint-roller marks. Sometimes it's hard to take her seriously.

Paris is almost the same age as my son, so I called him up and asked his opinion. "If I woke up on Christmas morning and discovered that I was Paris Hilton, he said, "I'd want handgun. And one bullet. And instructions covering which end of the gun to put up against my head." Apparently he's not a real big Paris Hilton fan.

I guess nobody else I asked was a big fan either, since they all had pretty much the same answer - except for one person who said she would want an extra bullet "as a kindness to that creepy little dog."

So what exactly do you wrap up under the tree for a girl who gets paid $50,000 (plus an extra $10,000 for not wearing any underpants) just to show up at a bar mitzvah?

Boy, did I ever screw up the other day. I said, “Happy Holidays” to a Bill O’Reilly Fan. Lucky for me, this particular BORF was kind enough to immediately point out the error of my ways.

BORF: Happy Holidays? Tell me, why do you hate Jesus so much?

Me: What?

BORF: You’ve joined the leftist, Democrat, tax-and-spend liberal war on Christmas, so you must hate Jesus.

Me: I don’t hate Jesus.

BORF: Then why are you mounting your secular assault on Christmas and trying to eliminate all that is holy in America?

Me: I’m not mounting anything. All I said was, “Happy Holidays.”

You know, I'm willing to bet that there's some guy in your neighborhood whose roof is literally sagging under the weight of a giant Santa, a small herd of reindeer, and a life-sized nativity scene – complete with "lowing" cattle, a couple of shepherds who look pretty nervous to be stapled to those roof shingles, a trio of really strung-out Magi, and a fiberglass Holy Family with the infant Messiah lit up by a 450 watt halogen bulb stuck right up his manger.

The guy who owns this house is my personal hero – I love Christmas decorations!

Yes, I called them "Christmas" decorations, not "Holiday Decorations," or any other godless secular nonsense. You see, I have a deep reverence for the collection of mostly Druid, Viking and Pagan traditions that today form the Hallmark® of this holiest of all seasons.

This past Sunday was father's day. For me this was extra-special, since my birthday always falls within a couple days of father's day, putting me in a league with people born on December 24 and people who find themselves locked overnight in bakeries. We get a lot of a good thing, and we get it all at once.

So I'm thoroughly enjoying the "Guinness" and "Corona" boxer shorts that my wife gave me, and that cool "The Chef Is An Idiot" barbecue apron I got from my son. The cats chipped in and bought me a new can opener.

Life really doesn't get any better than this.

First published May 12, 2006

All right guys, Sunday is Mother's Day. Yellow alert! Go to DefCon 1!

For those of you who are not familiar with A.D.S.D. (Association of Dads, Sons and Daughters) nomenclature, DefCon refers to situations in which failing to live up to Mom's expectations will result in Definite Consequences.

For example, forgetting to take out the garbage on pickup day might take us to DefCon 4, meaning that a mild scolding is in the offing. Failure to mow the lawn or perform some other assigned task would be considered DefCon 3 infractions, with correspondingly greater consequences, while coming home from Chuck E. Cheese's with one less (or more) kid than we left home with will get us instantly and uncomfortably into DefCon 2 territory.

In the three basic DefCon 1 situations - her birthday, your anniversary and Mother's Day - failure is simply not an option.

The idea of Mother's day has been around in this  country since just after the Civil War, when Julia Ward Howe (who wrote the words to the Battle Hymn of the Republic) issued her Mother's Day Peace Proclamation. Since then we've put Julia on a stamp, brought in the Hallmark people, and pretty much got rid of that pesky old "Peace" thing that was cluttering up her idea.