I saw a sign on a charming roadside cabin,with a wreath on the door and a full-sized Victorian sleigh out front. The sign read “Last Time To See Santa.” My partner John and I immediately began to discuss: what was wrong with Santa? Was he retiring? Were the MRI results that dire? Or has everyone simply been too naughty for too long, and is Santa finally giving up?
I love it when Jewish singers like Barbra Streisand make Christmas albums. Streisand’s version of I’ll Be Home For Christmas is glorious, but while I listen to it I always think, Barbra, we missed you at Chanukah. Barbra, why are you so excited about misletoe? Barbra, when you sing Ave Maria I can hear Golda Meir weeping and rending her clothing.
I love those enormous inflatable Christmas displays on front lawns, of six-foot-tall working snow globes and groupings of life-size carolers, or as seen here, the jolliest manger imaginable, where the baby Jesus looks like a flotation device.
Here’s a snowglobe which includes two bottles of vodka.
When the electric fans which keep these displays inflated are unplugged, usually late at night, the displays collapse into puddles of weary plastic and then the lawns resemble Civil War battlefields or Samuel Beckett plays.