On the 25th of December, in the middle of wintertime, everybody comes together to exchange gifts. They decorate an evergreen and then gather around it in the living room, singing: “We wish you a happy holiday, whether you live in York, Jersey, Brooklyn, or Dallas. / Here is your present: It’s a shoe.”
“Holy night,” says a little robin, as it unwraps its gift of holly balls.
A jolly fat man is falling down. His name is Claus. He is crawling out of your chimney and offering you an item from his sack: “Ho, ho, ho. / Have a piece of snow.”
Now the sleigh-master says to the herd of deer in the yard: “Onward, Rudolph, Dasher, and Blitzen! / Light my path with your noses that glisten!”
Oh, what fun it is to ride. Use this time to check and recheck your list. Then pick up the phone and announce: “I just called to say I love you.”
A decorated Saint is at the Mall of America’s Food Court. “Drink eggnog, wine, and beer; / The Saint is here!”
Your Mother approaches and begins to kiss this Saint. You then run and alert your Father, who is played by Rod Taylor circa 1963 (remember Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds). Your Father leaps forth and physically separates the would-be lovers, keeping everyone safe yet disappointed.
“No one shall receive any gifts, this Christmas,” declares the Saint. “I shall take steps to have my sled buried in the junkyard.”
As the flames embrace Rosebud in the Valley of Hinnom, we notice that, on the backdrop, there are little drummer boys standing next to fruitcakes and unused building materials.
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