‘Tis NOT The Season

Do you know what burns my bacon? I’ve seen Christmas advertisements already and it’s not even September.

Really, are stores that desperate for the all mighty dollar that they keep pushing back the Christmas Season?

Whoever the marketing “genius” is who thought this up needs to have a Nutcracker in his Christmas balls.

Advertising for Christmas when it’s still summer time makes about as much sense to me as shaving Santa Claus’ beard off and putting him on Weight Watchers and changing his name to Don Knotts!

The Christmas Season should start on Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving. In fact, I will vote for any candidate who is willing to make it a federal law that companies aren’t allow to push their Christmas merchandise until Black Friday. The penalty is listening to bad Christmas songs while drinking curdled eggnog.

And let’s add something else to that federal law: People need to take down their Christmas decorations by New Year’s Day. Christmas lights are like dirty underwear: No one wants to see them on your front yard come St. Patrick’s Day. Yes, both are very festive and multi colored, but there is a time and place for everything.

We all know about supply and demand, but there can’t be that many people who really need to have that ceramic Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer that poops chocolate while its nose blinks “The 12 Days Of Christmas” in Morse code when it’s 90 degrees outside. If so, these people need to see their doctor and ask if Paxil is right for them.

But I’m not a Scrooge. I love the winter holidays. I honestly love hearing the Christmas music playing nonstop on some radio stations and I love looking at the decorations. In fact, the gaudier the better.

I was even thinking of placing some very decorative mistletoe on my belt buckle when I’m invited to my friend’s house this December for his annual Christmas party. I’m sure his wife will get a kick out of it, but I may reconsider since my friend has a nice collection of hunting guns and a long sword on his living room wall.

After all, I don’t want my holly jollies shot off and slice into little pieces to be given out to Santa’s reindeer on Christmas Eve.