Deck the Halls with Ministers of Folly. The Holiday Season is upon us. Aye Carumba. I gotta go Wal-Marting and stock up on electronic joy for friends and family. The problem is that where I live there is no Wal-Mart. What to do? What to do?
I’m not exactly the best capitalistic glutton. And if I remember my Sunday school class correctly, there’s something about Christmas that goes beyond The Pet Rock. Nevertheless, it’s still a time to shop till you drop and load up on knick-knacks and gizmos to stuff into the garage, if one can find the space or still even has a garage. I don’t want to break with tradition.
Let’s see I have The Wife, The Boy and The Father all covered.
The Wife gets to go back to SoCal without me. What else could any loving husband give the woman who has everything including him? A well-earned vacation from the Slovenly Wreck (your humble narrator) seems like just what the doctor ordered for the Little Woman. Best of all, it won’t clutter up the garage. Well… okay… The Slovenly Wreck does but… you get the idea.
The Boy? Easy. Santa will bring him another gas mask, a pair of night vision goggles and a Ghillie Suit, which is an ensemble that let’s the wearers dress up like Chewbacca or Big Foot. It’s for surviving in a world gone mad, and friends, the world has gone mad. Aren’t these the things that bring boundless hours of pleasure to any young whippersnapper? Maybe your kids are more interested in new video games and iPods but my son seems to have a solid lock on the future. And yes… I am a concerned parent.
The Father… hey a new Titanium Knee should be a real pleaser when he finds it under the tree. Maybe a discount coupon for his next colonoscopy would be a good stocking stuffer.
But what about Lew? Now this is where I’m really stuck. One does not forget one’s publisher or the fledgling writer may find the bathroom wall at the Greyhound Station the only place to get his or her "literary masterpieces" read.
This year has become especially troublesome. We all have to tighten our belts and that means no Victoria’s Secret diamond encrusted Fantasy Bra for anyone. Sorry Lew but I’m not sure they’ve come up with a version for men yet anyway. Besides, these things are getting old. I’ve been buying these things for The Wife for fifteen years and they always end up hanging from a hook in the garage next to the weed whacker. Maybe, they itch or are made with formaldehyde.
How about Neiman Marcus? Let’s see… Hm, Lew lives in the South right? And to me that means poverty! Wait, that’s not what I meant to say. I meant to say "thoroughbred horse racing!" Here’s a nice item in the NM Christmas catalog, the Three Chimneys Farm Thoroughbred Racing Stable Package. Hey! I want one of those! Get rid of all those smelly horses and this might make a nice spread. And it can be had for only… $10 million!!!!!!? It must be a foreclosure. I suspect some sort of scam here. Maybe the stables need foundation work or a shoveling out.
I’m going to pass on this one. Sorry Lew. Neiman Marcus is out. Maybe I can find something better at Piggly Wiggly. Do those still exist?
Something simple and intellectual is more appropriate, like a good book. Here’s one destined straight for the bathroom. Destined For Destiny the Unauthorized Biography of George W. Bush. Now that it appears that the much maligned and misunderstood Shrub of a Man is actually going to surprise us all and obey one part of the US Constitution by leaving office on schedule, I think a fond review of his rise to power from the humble beginnings as the spoiled brat of a “simple oil family” might be in order. Then again… maybe Lew would just prefer to forget the entire past eight years. I know I would!
This is getting tough. Wait a minute. I have it! Who doesn’t just dig some good solid tropical tiki music? Cool Daddy-O. Well, Les Baxter and Arthur Lyman are passé in these modern times however there is still hope. Hey Lew, how about a CD by the groovy Los Angeles tiki duo The Martini Kings? Now we’re cooking with napalm! Just which CD out of ten… yes count them… ten… is best? Wow, that’s like trying to pick your favorite Carrot Top joke. Do we go for Tikis and Bikinis, Dance of the Virgins or Creamy Cocktails and Other Delights? Oh heckers! Decisions are too tough. I’ll just send the entire Martini Kings boxed set anthology even if I have to put it together myself… assuming I can find all ten CDs.
Wrap Lew up in an official 2008 Hawaiian Christmas aloha shirt from Reyn Spooner and Lew will be sucking down Mai Tais at the Mises Institute with gusto to the wild beat of The Martini Kings on Christmas morning! It could be a new dawn in Libertarianism and Austrian Economic thinking!
But then, maybe the tropical look isn’t really dignified enough for Lew. I mean it’s okay for me to look like a clownish island bum since that’s what I am. But Lew? I don’t think so.
You know what? We men ever really grow up. We like toys. Okay, in these hard times a 1964 Chevy Impala Lowrider complete with hydraulics to make it hop or a radio-controlled spy plane are a tad beyond my budget. However, I have the perfect do-dad to adorn Lew’s desk and greet visiting dignitaries: the Playmobil Security Check Point! Now there’s a toy for the child of the modern Police State! Sure looks like fun doesn’t it?
Yes, Lew. You too can learn to smile as the TSA Goon Squad at the airport X-rays your carry-on luggage and laptop. You’ll learn to hold still with pride in the TSA peep show booth as the TSA preeverts ogle your privates. We need to be happy in the modern word and thankful Big Brother is keeping us so, so very safe.
