Happy Birthday Elvis

Elvis Presley was born January 8, 1935.

He'd be 72 years old today.

How cool would it have been for him to stick around like Johnny Cash and do something like Johnny's "American" recordings, free from the Colonel, free from all his fears of growing old, free from his fear of not being liked...



"Before Elvis there was nothing."
--John Lennon

Thank heaven for life's little routines

Little routines, such as the civilized habit of stopping to enjoy a cocktail. Ideally, for us, this is a Sunday afternoon ritual; our busy 21st century lives being what they are, though, sometimes we have to settle for Sunday evening.

Tonight's cocktail is a classic, one of the few cocktails not invented in the United States. It originated post-WWI in Paris, which makes it even swankier.

The Sidecar

Some recipes call for a 1:1:1 ratio, but we prefer the "English School" of Sidecar, a 2:1:1 ratio of cognac, Cointreau and lemon juice

• 1 shot of cognac (we use Meukow VS, a delightful inexpensive cognac, pronounced "moo-cow")
• 1/2 shot of Cointreau or triple sec (we use Caravella orangecello originale)
• 1/2 shot of lemon juice
• Mix the ingredients in a cocktail shaker and pour into a cocktail glass full of ice. Serve with a lemon twist.

*Note--the picture above shows a rocks glass and not a delicate little cocktail glass. Sometimes presentation isn't as important as getting your drink on.

Now I must get back to the bar. MizBubs wore herself to a frazzle shopping for clothes for our youngest this afternoon, and she is requesting another Sidecar to revive her spirits.

Hope you all had a wonderful weekend. Good night, sleep tight, and don't let Mitt Romney bite.

OK, it just hit me

So I'm sitting there with MizBubs, watching the Republican debates, drinking a little bourbon to take the edge off. And something's bugging me.

I keep looking at Mitt Romney, and something is just...bothering me, I don't know, and I can't figure out what it is. I mean, beyond all the obvious things. Like his pandering, and all the positions he's changed since deciding to run for president, and the inability to look at him speaking without wondering if he's wearing his celestial underwear.

Then it hit me.

Mitt Romney bears a striking resemblance to Bad Ash:

Well, ok, so Ash looks a little more unhinged than the Republican candidate in this particular photo, but hopefully you get the idea.

New Year Random Ten , looking back at 2007

Let's start with my first random ten of the new year. One of my resolutions this year is to learn some mad computer skillz so I can actually post music samples and not just these crappy song titles. But for now, crappy song titles is all you're getting:

Why Can't You Be Nicer To Me?--The White Stripes

Sal's Got a Sugarlip—Johnny Horton

Break On Through—The Doors

Terror Couple Kill Colonel—Bauhaus

No Time To Cry—The Sisters of Mercy

One Way Ticket—Bobby Lumpkin & the Kapers

The Pontiac—Tom Waits

You're Gone But I'm Left—Tyrone Schmidling

My Love is a Flower—Jonathan Richman & The Modern Lovers

Cypress Grove—Tav Falco

_____________________

Now on to other matters.

I tried this out last year after stealing the idea from my sister-in-law Kate.

Here’s how it works:

You take the first couple of lines from the first and last post for each month. You can edit as much as you want. Or you can just invent stuff that you never posted in the first place. And then you have it, your blog year in review.

2007

The Year in Review

January: Experts say all signs point to a massive attack by man-eating sharks some time in the new year.

Ever get stuck next to someone on a train, bus or airplane, and that person just really bugs you? Thanks to the wonders of forwarded email, here's a way of dealing with them.

February: Lulu recently posted a YouTube clip that purports to be the worst video ever. I won't dispute that claim.

Pissed off or depressed? I haven't decided which just yet.

March: DHL Import Express: One Invoice, One Currency, One Company, One Liver and Part of a Human Head.

I was looking through my clown collection for something disturbing to kick off the weekend. This is what I came up with:

April: I've been tagged by both Katie Schwartz and Johnny Yen, and if it's rude to ignore a tag, how rude would it be to ignore two? I had no choice but to comply:

Ask any of my close friends or family and they will tell you I am a model of rectitude and decorum, and would not normally even say the proper term for the female pudenda. But now that's changed.

May: Be proud, fellow midwesterners: it all started here in Chicago on May 1, 1886. The start of the 8-hour day movement...

There are three freaks this week. Let's have a little contest, shall we?

June: Here's a few tips if you're thinking about committing a robbery:

1) Don't get drunk before you commit your robbery

That's the nice thing about the Random Ten--it requires nothing but the push of the "shuffle" button and a little copying and pasting.

July: I had a bright idea the other day (at least I thought it was bright at the time, we'll see how it works out) of starting a blog to post pictures and descriptions of stuff I want to get rid of.

Sometimes I think about how my job has changed me. We all change over time, no doubt about it. After almost 19 years of doing the same job it gets hard to tell if the changes you see in yourself are a result of time, or a result of how you’ve been living your life.

August: Yes indeedy, it's Weenie-Waver Wednesday!

Today's story works on so many levels. It's got:

-Drugs
-Booze
-Driving while (partly) naked
-Christian radio personalities

I know you're all expecting to see another sex fiend for Weenie Waver Wednesday.

September: This man was, without a doubt, the best of all of us. There were no signs of depression that we could see, and he was literally the last person any of us would have thought to be at risk.

Beckeye and Coaster Punchman have sent me off on an 80's nostalgia trip. There are worse things.

October: Can't afford that Standing Rib Roast for the holidays? Here's an entree with all the panache, at a fraction of the price! Yes, it's a Wiener Tiara Bake

My friend Dena sent this, and I think it's a swell last minute costume idea: Make your own Christopher Walken mask.

November: It's hard to say goodbye to Halloween. Once again I'm having that post-Halloween letdown.

I just finished my last training run, a quick 3 miler. The starting temperature was 29, and what kind of Chicagoan would I be if I didn't throw in the wind chill factor, huh? That made it feel like 19.

December: A journey of 13.1 miles starts with a single step.

"I drink it when I'm happy and when I'm sad. Sometimes I drink it when I'm alone. When I have company I consider it obligatory. I trifle with it if I'm not hungry and drink it when I am. Otherwise I never touch it. Unless I'm thirsty."

NEVER FORGET

I owe you all an apology.

It's easy to become complacent. So easy to post drink recipes, and pinups, and pictures of the occasional predatory Santa. All these distractions have served to take my focus away from what I should be doing first and foremost, and the first week of the new year is a perfect time to correct the course.

What is it I should be doing, you ask?

Reminding each and every one of you that there is a war on. World War G. As I've stated before, mankind is locked in a savage battle with the order Crocodilia, and in this great nation we are specifically under attack by the family Alligatoridae--the alligator.

The most frightening aspect of World War G is the realization that certain humans have seen fit to cast their lot with the reptiles. In some cases a do-gooder "naturalist" might have convinced them that we can coexist with gators; more often though (certainly more than any so-called "authorities" would care to admit), drugs are involved. The alligator/cocaine nexus has been well-documented, nearly as much as the religion/porn nexus.

With that in mind, the news from El Cajon, California, is grim.

Christopher Shawn Hendry, Jr. avoided prison time and was sentenced to probation for illegally possessing an alligator, 27 venomous snakes, an illegal assault rifle, and a pistol fitted with a silencer. He also kept ammunition stored in his 2 year old daughter's bedroom, and had over 100 pounds of fireworks.

Sweet weeping Jesus on the cross, what kind of country do we live in that can't put a man like this in prison?

Of course the gator apologists in the mainstream media have downplayed this incident. Headlines like this one

Man Found With Exotic Pets in Home Sentenced

really don't paint an accurate picture. "Exotic pets"!?

How about a headline like this:

HEAVILY ARMED FREAK WITH HOUSE FULL OF KILLER REPTILES DODGES JAIL TIME

Now that's a headline.

_____________________

So, this is my pledge to you. I will never forget, nor will I let you forget. We will remain strong and vigilant in the face of danger. We'll stay focused. And, God willing, we'll prevail.

I'm going to start by posting these Alligator Safety Tips, courtesy of the South Florida Sun-Sentinel:

• ALLIGATOR SAFETY TIPS

• Never allow small children or pets near water by themselves.
  


• Do not allow pets to swim, exercise or drink from lakes or canals that may contain alligators. Dogs are highly susceptible to attack since they resemble the natural prey of alligators.
  


• Do not swim outside of posted swimming areas or in waters that might be inhabited by alligators.
  


• Alligators are most active between dusk and dawn. Leave alligators alone. State law prohibits killing, harassing or possession of alligators.
  


• Never feed alligators. When fed, alligators overcome their natural wariness and learn to associate people with food.
  


• At boat ramps and fish camps, dispose of fish in garbage cans. Do not throw them in the water.
  


• Never remove an alligator from its natural habitat or accept one as a pet. They do not become tame in captivity and handling even small ones can result in injury.
  


• Seek immediate medical attention if bitten by an alligator. Bites often result in serious infection.

Please, commit these to memory. They could save your life, or the lives of your loved ones. I would add one more to this list: stay away from that crack pipe, especially if you plan on hanging out near a gator hole.

_____________________

Finally, I'd like to unveil a project I began working on in 2007. This is just the prototype, so bear with me as I make improvements in the coming months (I gladly welcome technical assistance from any of you computer-savvy readers out there, and a grateful nation would thank you for your service).

Behold, the Sprawling Ramshackle Compound Alligator Threat Map:


View Larger Map

Remember, the watchword for 2008 remains

CONSTANT VIGILANCE !

Mmmmm...chocolate covered cherries

Happy National Chocolate-Covered Cherry Day.

All is quiet on New Years Day

What a day. I couldn't really tell you a single thing I did today, other than cook, but I mean that in a good way. The day just passed by in a pleasant, slow moving blur. Everyone relaxed, hanging around, talking. A perfect day for me to be the big shiftless hillbilly I am.

Today was a food day. I took a pound of sausage out of the freezer last night to thaw, and rinsed and put a pound of black eyed peas in a bowl to soak before we went out. The last couple of years I've gone running on New Years Day, but the snow and ice kept me from doing that this year. So I cooked, and I ate. I woke up before anyone else, drank some coffee and caught up on some reading. And then I started cooking. Breakfast was biscuits and sausage gravy--delicious and filling, and a nice lazy way to start the year.

Once we were sufficiently coffee'd up, and had some food in our bellies, the champagne came out. Today's drink was the Bellini; we cheated and used peach nectar instead of pureed peaches, and we used champagne instead of sparkling Italian wine.

Later in the afternoon it was time to start cooking again. Usually on New Years day I like to make hoppin' John. I was excited because this year I had a new recipe that promised to be more flavorful than the one I'd used in the past. Also on the menu were southern greens. I started the greens first.

Like all good southern vegetable dishes, you start with some bacon.

You chop a half pound of bacon, and fry it in a big pot until it starts to get crispy. Then you add a couple cups of sliced onions, and fry them with the bacon till they turn golden. Then throw in a tablespoon of minced garlic, fry it a little more, then pour in a bottle of beer, a quarter cup of vinegar and a couple tablespoons of molasses. Mix it all up, and then start adding your greens.

Lately we've been using the greens from Glory Foods, a mix of mustard, collard and turnip greens that come pre-washed and chopped. It saves a lot of trouble, I'll tell you, especially in January when the garden is snowed under and there's no farmers market. You add 3 pounds of greens to the bacon/onion/liquid mix described above and then you cook the whole thing on a low heat for about an hour and a half.

While the greens are cooking you can start on your hoppin' John. The first thing you got to do is rinse and soak your black eyed peas overnight

The recipe calls for a ham hock, but I cheated and used a big hunk of smoked ham, cut into chunks. You start by searing some ham in a big pot; after a few minutes you add a half cup of chopped celery, a half cup of chopped red pepper, a tablespoon or two of garlic, and a cup of chopped onion. Boy, does it smell good.

After a while you add a bay leaf, a teaspoon of thyme, salt, pepper, cayenne and a quart of stock. You bring it to a boil, and then reduce the heat and let it simmer for a little over an hour. I had to add about another cup of stock during the cooking. When it's all done you serve it over some steamed white rice:

We were going to make cornbread, but after a few Bellinis we just didn't have the energy. Which is kind of a shame, because MizBubs makes some damned fine cornbread.

_____________________

So the day went by in a pleasant haze of eating, lounging and drinking. Our youngest left for a sleepover, our eldest's boyfriend came by and had dinner with us, then they went out for ice cream with some friends. We popped in Kairo, the original Japanese version of Pulse. It was a cool movie, moody and dark, but I started to fall asleep and got up to go to bed. And then the phone rang.

It was an old friend of mine, technically an ex-girlfriend although I don't really think of her that way since I only dated her for a few months in my junior year in high school. She's one of a small number of people I've managed to stay in touch with since high school. From her I found out that one of my best friends in high school, someone I'd lost track of about 20 years ago, had died of brain cancer.

I cracked open a bottle of Knob Creek that my partner gave me as a Christmas present, poured a quadruple, and spent the next half hour on the phone catching up. I found out another girl I knew--my ex-girlfriend's best friend--also had cancer and was quite sick. We spent some time talking about our kids, talking about loss, about reaching middle age, and about the tendency of some folks in our age bracket to spend more time looking back than looking forward.

My friend Warren Stewart was one of the coolest people I ever met. He was one of those kids in high school who just had style and tastes that were developed far beyond that of any of his peers. He was wicked smart, and funny, and he loved good food and paid attention to good cooking years before I ever did. He was the first of my friends who knew how to mix a cocktail.

The last time I saw him was in 1984, when he visited me and MizBubs in Chicago, and I have vague memories of him and MizBubs dragging me home from a punk rock bar in the classic drunken sailor/crucifixion manner. I can't even remember how I lost track of him, and I feel kind of shitty about that.

It turns out Warren was living in Brooklyn when he died, and was loved, and will be missed by many many people. There's a memorial blog set up for him, and I spent some time reading the various entries. I didn't recognize the names of any of the posters; the lack of names from our high school years made the passage of time seem somehow more intense. I don't know why, but the idea that I had at one time been so close to Warren, and knew nothing of how he'd spent the past 20 + years, was at once disorienting and sad.

After a while I got off the phone with my friend, and went upstairs to tuck in MizBubs. She was curled up in bed reading, and asked how my call went. She had only met Warren twice, but they got along famously. I like to think he'd be pleased to see how we turned out. At one point I said that we've now officially hit middle age--we're at the point when we're starting to hear about friends getting sick and dying, and there's sure to be more of it coming in the next 10 or 20 years. Somehow, though, that thought's not depressing to me. It's just kind of curious, just part of the journey. Time marches on, and we all go on doing whatever it is that we do, and so does everyone else.

Tired and weary, or not, we must go alone. Hopefully we'll all find peace in the new year.

A toast

"I drink it when I'm happy and when I'm sad. Sometimes I drink it when I'm alone. When I have company I consider it obligatory. I trifle with it if I'm not hungry and drink it when I am. Otherwise I never touch it. Unless I'm thirsty."


--Madame Lilly Bollinger, on champagne




But that's not the toast referred to in the title of this post. No. Here's the toast I'll be saying tonight:


"Here's to a kidney stone of a year: painful as hell, and we're glad it's passed."


Happy New Year. I hope tonight finds you surrounded by people you love, and who love you back.

Back to normal

Yep.

The tiki bar outing was splendid, and it's a good thing that people far more articulate and entertaining than I am memorialized it for the ages. People like Coaster Punchman, Johnny Yen (great pictures!) and GKL of Two Minutes in the Box.

Because once I returned to work the next day, it was back to normal. Oh yeah. Normal.

The parents of the girl who decided to casually mention that she was raped as she went off to the psych hospital after a domestic with her parents (she claimed she was raped by her boyfriend, and then went to the mall and walked around with him after they showered together, and decided to report it 2 weeks later when her parents got mad at her) no longer want us to investigate. Believe it or not, we have another, similar, case from about 2 weeks ago, and that victim has not contacted us either (she also disclosed her assault on the way to the psych ward after a domestic disturbance with her mom).

Another sexual assault investigation, involving a 90 year old dementia patient, continues, and hopefully we'll make some progress with it this week. What started as a great lead in an armed robbery we were investigating (a person matching the description of our robber checked into a nearby hotel 20 minutes after the robbery, paid cash for the room, and was on parole for robbery) ended with me yanking the guy off a toilet, naked after he sat there pretending to take a shit as he flushed the dope we didn't care about in the first place, and then realizing he had nothing to do with our robbery. The idiot informed us he had hepatitis C after coughing all over us during the encounter. And did I mention he wasn't our robber?

I spent a good part of this evening standing in a room at a local SRO hotel with the body of a 39 year old man who died some time after Christmas. He was kinda blue-ish and marbly-looking, but not ripe enough to burst yet. We were lucky enough to leave before he had to be transported, so if he popped and oozed when they bagged him, at least we weren't around for it. I got to inform his estranged wife that he had died--he'd been living in this flophouse since they separated pending a divorce. I felt bad for her--she had to break the news to their kids. A little while later I had to reach out to another agency, and some poor cop got sent to his parents' house to tell them their son had died. At least I remembered to wear my raid jacket to the death scene, so I didn't have to go home with my winter jacket smelling of human decomposition.

_____________________

One of the things I do, in between the other stuff, is to look at the crazy letters that come to the department. Some of them are anonymous, some are not. You know the letter is crazy when it arrives--I don't know how to describe this, but the crazy letters just look different. Sometimes it's the extra-tiny handwriting, sometimes it's the typewritten address with no return address on the envelope. It depends.

So, you get one of these letters, and if there's a name or return address you check it out, try and determine if the person poses any threat to anyone or is just one of the legions of the harmless crazy obsessed.

Here's the latest. It was a handwritten screed about an encounter at a local restaurant that somehow seemed to trigger an attack of blisters and boils in the armpits of the writer. He thoughtfully included copies of a typewritten letter he wrote to another police agency 10 years ago by way of reference. Just so we'd understand the severity of this new incident. He also attached photocopies of two photographs. They appeared to be self-taken photos of a man wearing some type of bra. The flash in the mirror, and the poor quality of the photocopy prevented me from figuring out exactly what I was looking at.

Read on:








So, readers, what do you think? Should we go out and meet this "magic dancer" or just file the letter and do nothing else with it? I'm leaning toward filing it.

Well, it's Monday now. First day of the week, last day of the year. Oh boy.

I am a lousy Santa

Let me explain.

Recently, courtesy of Doctor Monkey Von Monkerstein, I signed on to participate in the Zaius and Monkerstein's Simian Secret Santa. I thought it sounded like a swell idea, and I threw my name in on December 22nd when I was full of Christmas vinegar. I was excited to draw the name of one Germaine Gregarious, whose blog I've only just started reading. For that matter, I had only recently taken notice of Zaius Nation, and boy, do I got lots of catching up to do...

Well, I may not be a writer or a strategic sales executive, but I do know how to procrastinate. And doggone it if December 25 didn't come and go without me bestowing a single gift on my target, Germaine Gregarious. I was somewhat relieved when I found out that Ms. Gregarious was my secret Santa, and she was also stylishly late with the gift-giving. And oh, she was something else--she made it through the dogs and concertina wire, past the trap guns, and managed to get into the Compound tiki bar to fix us up a batch of Mai Tais!

But then the paralysis set back in, and I wasn't able to do my Santa thing.

Until tonight.

And really, what does it matter? The days between Christmas and New Year's Eve are the least productive of the year (except around here when we're celebrating Guy Fawkes Day) so being a few days late, hopefully, won't unduly piss off the beautiful and apparently lethal Ms. Gregarious.

_____________________

Well, I know Ms. Gregarious has a thing for pink pistols, and I'm a certified Glock armorer, so I thought the first thing I'd get her, simply as a little lagniappe, was a custom Glock pistol with a nifty tactical light attached:


Then I thought some more. While her Nefarious Lair has plenty of pink pistols already, they seemed to me to be lacking in longer-range firepower. The obvious choice was this perky Hello Kitty .223 carbine:

Then another thought occurred to me. Maybe the fabulous Germaine Gregarious was tired of pink firepower. Maybe she'd appreciate a little something different. Maybe a bright, summery lime green assault rifle, courtesy of the folks at DuraCoat:

I almost regifted, being sorely tempted to help Germaine protect her lair with my own Operation X-500 Rocket Launcher and Defense Base:


But my kids said no way, and I kept the X-500. I mean, come on--wouldn't you?

Finally, as I got to the last few million dollars in my budget (that X-500 is one cost overrun after another) I came up with something fun and practical for Ms. Gregarious.

I decided that I would furnish her with a personal staff, and pay their salaries and all expenses through the next election cycle. And believe me, these gals don't come cheap.

I got her a personal secretary

A research assistant who specializes in doing opposition research

And finally, a highly skilled night nurse, for mending wounds and conserving fighting strength when those secret missions get rough:

Merry Christmas Germaine Gregarious!

Came in late Friday Random Ten

Because the night ended with having to drag an ugly naked man off the toilet, and yet another exposure to hepatitis C. And it wasn't even the right guy. So after washing my hands up to my elbows for a half hour or so, it was time to go out for a drink after work.

Home of the Blues—Johnny Cash

Domino—The Cramps

Ball and Chain—Social Distortion

Downtown—Tom Waits

Alone and Blue—Little Milton

Detroit City—Tom Jones

Jungle Hop—The Cramps

Whip It—Devo

Ace of Spades—Link Wray

I Need Your Lovin' Kiss—Harold Jenkins

Every word of this is true

• I detest smoky bars in general, and tiki bars in particular. Worst places ever for socializing.
• I have a visceral dislike for, and fear of, guns.
• A disastrous home distilling experiment left me with no sense of smell.
• The personal feature of which I am most proud is my ripped washboard abdomen.
• I am a proud conservative and frequently rail against the nanny state.
• I would never lie to you.

You can thank Splotchy for this little exercise in seven untruths.

Today's the day!

It's December 26, and you know what that means.


Happy Boxing Day!


It also means that tonight is the night for all of us in the Chicago area to get together at the fabulous Hala Kahiki Lounge in River Grove, Illinois. MizBubs and I will be there around 7pm, but the lavish awards ceremony for this year's Drysdale winners kicks off some time after 8.


I don't know about you, but I'm hoping I get to sit next to Charo.

You can find directions and more info in this post here.

Merry Christmas baby...

Swag?

Check.

Belly full of food?

Check.

Family?

Check.

Peace on earth, goodwill toward men?

...Well, at least for now, in this little corner of the world, yeah.

Merry Christmas.

Helpful last-minute gift ideas for children

For those of you who have put off shopping for your nieces or nephews, here are some clever last-minute ideas. Each of these is meant to encourage and expand a young person's interest in science; these gifts are thrifty AND educational! All of these items can be had at whatever Walgreen's or Jewels is open late on Christmas Eve.

Give them a big bottle of Diet Coke and some Mentos. Watch what happens.

Give them a big bag of marshmallows, and instructions on how to cook them in their parent's microwave oven. If you're feeling really generous, give them that old microwave oven that you keep down in the basement.

Give them a box of baking soda, a bottle of vinegar and some red food dye. It's volcano time!

Believe me, their parents will thank you!

Merry Christmas!

December 26 post-holiday choir practice

Remember folks, December 26 is right around the corner, and that means:

• Deep discounts on Christmas decorations, gift wrap and greeting cards!
• Special day-after-Christmas sales at your favorite stores!
• Back to work, you.
• It's time for a lovely informal gathering of all your favorite bloggers!

Chris at Some Guy's Blog has featured this event, and this year Mr. Grant Miller of Grant Miller Media will be hosting a lavish award ceremony to recognize this year's Drysdale Award winners.

This year we'll be meeting at the fabulous Hala-Kahiki Lounge at 2834 River Road in River Grove. The Hala-Kahiki is the oldest tiki bar in the Chicago area, and features a wonderful assortment of reasonably-priced exotic drinks, as well as your standard beers and hard liquors for the less adventurous.

MizBubs and I plan on arriving around 7 pm, but it looks like most of the really cool kids won't get there until closer to 8pm. The lavish award ceremony is scheduled to kick off then.

For those of you taking public transportation, it looks like you could take the 331 PACE bus from the Cumberland Avenue El stop. You can see the CTA System Map here. Metra's Milwaukee District West line stops at River Grove, .8 mile away from the Hala Kahiki. You can see the station on this map:


View Larger Map

If anyone needs a lift to or from the Metra station, email me and let me know.

Hope everyone gets through the next couple of days healthy and happy. See you Wednesday night!

Baby it's cold outside

Best way to keep your honey warm? Pour it into a mug full of hot tea, lemon and bourbon to fight off the cold you're coming down with...

Santa Claus is back in town

Just ask Elvis. Here he is to tell you all about it:

Wish You a Nice Weekend

I know it's not holiday-themed, but I still think it's a nice thought.

I must make amends

I was in a dark and troubled place when I subjected you all to those scary Santas.

Please allow me, in the few days I have left before Christmas, to make amends. You know, like when Ebeneezer Scrooge buys a goose and runs around making merry, only I'm getting started before Christmas Eve. I don't need ghostly visits to make me get my act together. No sir.

Allow me to begin with a Santa who's altogether more pleasing to the eye: