The best Christmas I ever experienced as a child was when I was about 6 years old, when the marquee gift was a small record player. The second I noticed it, all other goodies in the vicinity became presenta non grata, and I was all over that gizmo like Michael Moore on a meatball hero. I should have listened to my parents and not repeat-played the same songs so many times; we hadn’t even made it to New Years’ Eve when I found myself tortured daily with a loop recording in my head of some annoying little girl telling me she wanted her two front teeth for Christmas. I have no idea what became of the record player, but that one record went on to portray a clay pigeon in an impromptu round of kiddie skeet-shooting in my backyard. Good times……good times.
Since reaching adulthood, I’ve had my share of major Christmas scores: VHS Special Edition of It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World from a gal-pal, Led Zeppelin box set from my best friend, back-scratch from my wife (even better than the record player), among others. I’m still holding out hope for a Porsche with a large bow on the hood, but they’re terribly expensive (as are Porsches).
This time around, like most in recent years, was a reminder that I’m friend & relative to a serious flock of generous souls. We have the pretty standard tradition of exchanging our wish lists, and even when I get something not indicated on the list, it is consistently a pleasant surprise. While the list I give to my family focuses on my material needs, I make out a separate list for Santa Claus that takes a different, more magical tack. I know, I know, it’s foolish for a man to ask Santa Claus to grant him genie-style wishes, but I don’t know the address where Bigfoot gets his mail, and the Easter Bunny and I had a falling out years ago.
This year’s Christmas wishes to Santa:
1) Televised pundits learn proper use of the word “literally”.
2) Nancy Pelosi develops a chronic rash triggered by exercising power over others, forcing her to retire.
3) Pelosi’s affliction spreads to every Democrat in the Senate cafeteria, on the same day that all three female Supreme Court justices are having lunch with Barbara Boxer.
4) All people at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame with induction power get jailed for drugs and are replaced with intelligent, clear-thinking individuals. Shortly thereafter, Deep Purple are inducted. The new committee then discovers a clerical error, and Public Enemy ends up replaced by Yes.
5) Barack Obama finally oversteps his authority in a positive, popular way, and signs an executive order banning reality TV.
I’ll probably have to wait a few days to see if any of these wishes are granted, of course. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I see my wife reaching for her nail clippers, and she must be stopped.