Finding the Humor!

By Michael Walsh

To quote a good friend of mine named Chuck, “Isn’t there anyone who knows what [PC Police edit] is all about?!”

Before I respond, why don’t we hear from the panelists.

Linus?

“Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.”

Nope, sorry kiddo. Religion is not the answer we were looking for.

Arnold?

“I’m not a pervert! I just was looking for Turbo Man doll!”

Nope, nice try, Terminator, but it’s not about gifts.

Ralphie?

“I want an official Red Ryder, carbine action, two-hundred shot range model air rifle!”

Are you kidding? You’ll shoot your eye out, kid.

Moving on…oh wait. Ebenezer, you have something?

“Bah Humbug.”

Of course.

After 22 holiday seasons, I’ve found that the holiday season is all about finding humor in unusual places.

Ponder this; I have participated numerous times in an event called Tuba Christmas. Every year on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, 100+ tuba players meet up and play festive tunes outside Faneuil Hall. On the surface, it is for charity. Under the surface, it is just plain awesome.

I am also the kid who pleaded with Santa for Pow Pow Power Wheels every December ‘til I started growing facial hair.

Seriously, think about the people whose electric bills skyrocket just so that you are forced to rubberneck to take in the their state-of-the-art, motion-detecting reindeer display that they have up mid September through March. And they don’t even have kids. Go figure.

Ever try to get a five year old to leave a kippah on his head? Mothers train us from a young age about how to dress this time of year. Itchy turtleneck? Check. Flannel lumberjack? Check. Homemade 100% wool sweater the likes of which would make Mr. Rogers squirm? Check. 100% discomfort? NOW you’ve got the holiday spirit. Try not to scratch yourself too much.

We choke down enough egg nog to get drunk so we can’t taste the fruitcake, then we are practically legally bound to swap spit with a complete stranger or an over-zealous relative (Yes, Aunty Sarah does have some wandering hands!) because there’s a little holiday leaf hung over the door entrance. Good luck finding a kosher hangover cure.

Ever watch your sports-fanatic dad try to smile and embrace the pink slippers your grandmother bought him? Secretly, I think grandma may have bought them just to see her son squirm. There is so much unintentional humor when we give gifts that reality need never look further for its next hit. Giving your emo nephew a Hollister gift-card or your tomboy niece a pretty floral dress can really cause some strain in the relationship…

We should also recognize the holiday season for what it really is: a competition to see who can start the most household fires.

Catholics had an early lead back when they were lighting candles on evergreen trees in their living rooms. Since then they have moved to the conservative “four candle on a wreath” method ~ but hey, flammable is still flammable.

With Hanukkah, the Jewish faith holds the current lead ~ eight days worth of candles is literally playing with fire. Oye.

Kwanzaa was created in the ‘60s and is not backed by religion. Not to be outdone however, observers ignite their own seven candle device in hopes of catching up to the BCS holidays.

OK, Ebenezer you get one more shot at this thing.

“But now I KNOW that I don’t know anything!”

My work here is done.

Happy Holidays…and no regifting those pink slippers, Dad.