Ah, the persistent question at this time of year, at least for those of you that worship Baby Santa, er, Jeebus. So, what do you want? This blog's not answering that question for itself-- officially, it's part of that Buddhist "freedom from desire" thingamabobber, but, unofficially, it's because this blog's too damned lazy to think of anything-- so toss in your answers in the comment box. Some of you might want to consult Christie's list for a few ideas--- surprisingly, not all of them evil. You're even free to speculate as to what the Not-So-Good Doctor might want for the holidays, though he fully expects certain chuckling folks to answer "Christina Ricci" in triplicate.
As for the Doc, he's off to take care of some of those vile tasks attendant to the holidays, which basically means taking a lovely day so far and stuffing it in a sheep's stomach and pretending it's haggis. (While you're all thinking of December 25th, this blog's thinking about January 25th. Tells you something about priorities.) Time to get the machete out again, and slash through the uncivilized mobs of overweight housewives screaming at their children and clawing at polyester sweaters that have been discounted by two-dollars and thirty-seven cents. Shopping at Christmas always reinforces for me the old rule about historical change: revolutions never follow through when they're just men fighting and bickering among one another; they happen when the women get involved, when the war moves beyond the political backrooms to the bread lines and the meat shops. That's when things get really scary, as Christmas provides us an eensy-weensy glimpse every blasted year. I just thank God-- or Darwin, or Ray Charles-- I'm not going to Wal-Mart. Whew!
UPDATE: Wow, that went well. In and out very quickly, as I moved and swerved around the throngs in some bizarre Canucki version of The Matrix. Topper: a brief glance at a sidewalk sale table caught me the '99 reprint of the Methuen Noël Coward Collected Plays One (including Hay Fever and The Vortex), normally $20+ CDN, for 99¢. Not bad, not bad.... Especially considering that some years ago I spent Gawd only knows how much more than that just to make a Xerox copy of Private Lives for my Modern comp. A Noël surprise, indeed.
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