T'was the Night Before a PC Christmas...

There was a time, not so long ago, that Christmas was a season of joy and happiness. Trees were decorated, gifts were bought and exchanged, relatives were visited, and children waited impatiently in long lines to sit on Santa's lap to tell him what they wanted him to leave under the tree.

Things are different now.

Because no one can possibly be offended by anything, traditional nativity scenes can't be put up in public places, "Christmas" has become the generic "Holiday Season," and the jolly Santa that used to delight youngsters at the local mall now has to worry about arrest and prosecution if he hugs a child.

You've got to be politically, socially, and secularly correct, because if you're not, there is surely some brainless twit of a Grinch out there waiting to pounce with a lawsuit ... because we've decided that everything can offend someone, and no one should ever have to be offended over anything.

This is what I call a crock.

And so, Dear Readers, from my collection of things accumulated over the years, here is the politically correct, 2010 version of the beloved classic:

The PC Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck...
How to live in a world that's politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to Elves -
Vertically Challenged they were calling themselves.
And labor conditions up at the North Pole
Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.

Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And Equal Employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid,
Were replaced by four pigs, and you know that looked stupid!

The runners had all been removed from his sleigh,
For the ruts were termed dangerous by the E.P.A.
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard the strange noises up on their roof-tops.
The second-hand pipe smoke had his workers quite frightened,
And his fur trimmed red suit was, at best, unenlightened.

And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows,
Rudolf was suing over use of his nose!
He'd gone onto Oprah, in front of the nation,
Demanding many millions in back compensation.
So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
Who'd decided she'd tired of north polar life,
Joined a self-help group and left in a whiz,
Insisting from now on her title was Ms.

And as for the gifts, why, he'd ne'er had a notion
That making a choice could cause so much commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.
Nothing that might be construed to pollute.
Nothing to aim. Nothing to shoot.
Nothing that clamored or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls, or only for boys.
Nothing religious or gender specific,
Nothing that's warlike or overly pacific.

No candy or sweets - they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to diminish The Truth.
And fairy tales, though they were not yet forbidden,
Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.

No baseball, no football - someone could get hurt;
Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt.
Dolls are sexist, and should be passe;
And video games rot your brain cells away.

So Santa just stood there, disheveled, perplexed;
And just could not figure out what to do next.
He tried to be jolly, tried to be gay,
But you've got to be careful with that word today!
His sack was all empty, lying limp on the ground;
For nothing acceptable to all could be found.

Something special was needed, a gift that he might
Give to all without angering the left or the right.
A gift that would satisfy, with no discrimination,
Each group of people, of every nation;
Of every religion and gender and hue,
Everyone, everywhere ... and even you.

So here is that gift, its price beyond worth:
"May you and your loved ones enjoy peace on earth."

Christmas. Is one week of love and good cheer out of 52 all that much to ask?

Have a good day. Christmas thoughts coming tomorrow.

Bilbo

P.S. - It's long been out of print, but if you can find a copy, Richard Armour's wonderful short book The Year Santa Went Modern is a great Christmas treat for children of all ages.

B.