Pity poor Ebenezer Scrooge. Throwing open his window that nippy December morning, he’s so culturally insensitive as to wish everyone a merry Christmas (Pardon my language!). Had he only known how to celebrate the seasonal festivities in a more thoughtful, less offensive way, he could have shouted “Happy Holidays” at all he met. Scrooge, alas, forgot that lots of people out there are not Christians, don’t know what a Christian is, don’t take being a Christian seriously, regard themselves only as nominal Christians, hate Christians, or have vague ideas at best that something Christian is somehow or other connected with December 25th. That’s a big audience ready to be offended. Be very careful.

Day 1

Started my new job today here at the university, thought I’d keep a journal. Staffing a help desk in the library copy center. Real boring. Read a piece of paper from the recycle bin that caught my eye called “Why Fascism is the Wave of the Future.” Listened to a guy talk to his phone for an hour in a different language while scanning things. He left without saying anything to me. Did not need help with the copiers, I guess.

Must figure out things to do. I wish there was a window.

Right about now, you’re smack dab in the middle of the various Christmas holiday cartoons that run rampant until Christmas. It’s a great time to gather the little ones around the warm glow of the television and for a few days of the year, pretend like you’re a normal well-adjusted family, and that dad’s drinking

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Today’s televised political debates are a difficult medium for the candidates, since each must craft a memorable sound bite of his or her position in thirty seconds for an audience that would rather be watching Dancing with the Stars or Chopped. But were things better on town squares and fairgrounds in Illinois in 1858 when the candidates spoke uninterrupted for two hours on a rickety wooden platform in each of seven open-air encounters? Here’s the truth about those highly touted Lincoln-Douglas debates.

Dear Uncle Jay:

I have recently been contemplating abandoning my job as an itinerant poultry inspector–I’m really tired of all the politics and drama–in order to pursue a full-time career as a gangster. My friend Irwin says that I will never get anywhere in that field without a catchy and colorful nickname, but I’m at a loss as to how to choose one. Can you help?

–B.W., Racine, Wisconsin