Column 12

Well peers and peerettes, it’s that most wonderful time of the year yet again. No, I’m not talking about teacher evaluations, 24-hour library access, or Annual “Pretend to Care About the Homeless” Week. I’m talking about Christmas! (“X-Mas” if you hate freedom. Or you’re kinky). Yes, it’s time to put out the decorations, leave school, visit the family, and ponder yet again whether your meaningless life is worth saving as you fruitlessly struggle in a world of ever-increasing darkness. Ah, nothing quite says Christmas cheer like the warm, fuzzy bear-hug of death!

And, of course, with Christmas comes the annual “buyitzkrieg.” Last week we again celebrated Black Friday, followed by Blue Saturday, culminating in Oh-God-Make-the-Pain-Stop-or-Kill-Me Sunday. Now, I’m a fan of giving just as much as the next guy, as any participant of my triennial “Tuberculosis Donation Drive” can tell you. But as I think over all the people I ought to buy things for, I run into a problem that has made my gift giving endeavors forever doomed to failure: I can’t quantify love.

Now, don’t get me wrong, it’s certainly not for lack of trying. I just can’t seem to get it right. It’s tricky, you know? And the commercials don’t help at all. I mean, yeah, jewelry is great. I get that. But if I’m going to buy a diamond from halfway across the world, bathed in the blood of seventeen African wage slaves and worth more than the annual GDP of its country of origin, I need to at least get the right one for the occasion!

So what, really, should I buy for whom? There are just so many choices! How do I say, “I love you more than (my sister)” without saying “Gee, this sure is a big diamond. Like, huge. I mean, the person who gives this certainly deserves forgiveness for whatever eugenics manifestos or arrest warrants that may or may not materialize in their very immediate future.” Which size toolbox means “I love you grandpa” and which size means “You know, inheritances don’t HAVE to be split ten ways…” Which box of chocolate for my non-existent girlfriend says, “Sweets for my sweetie!” and which says, “This is going to make dumping you ssooo much easier.” These are not easy questions!

So what am I supposed to do? Tell them how I feel? “Hey mom, I really appreciate your constant support and unwavering devotion. You really are a wonderful person, and I love you.” Jesus, next thing you know you’ll want me to give everything to charity! Listen, if I don’t let those orphans fish for themselves, who will? (And no, Virginia, Santa don’t do social work.)

I mean, it’s only fair! How can I ethically accept my third flat screen TV if I don’t respond by paying some illegal immigrants to repaint paint the yacht? It just wouldn’t be right!

If only love was directly purchasable. You know, 40 units of adoration for fifty bucks, something like that. I mean, that jazz would sell! Forget tickle-me-elmos, furbies, and Playstation Thirteens, the new hot item is good ole fashioned love. “Brewed fresh daily, our special blend of toddler giggles and granny hugs will be sure to remind anyone you still give a damn. Or try our new “Kittens and Cream,” available for a limited time only!” The marketing practically writes itself!
Alas, it’s up to each of us to decide what form of capital we use to demonstrate our care and affection for our loved ones. I’m afraid I don’t have any easy answers, but I do want to wish you and yours a happy holiday break. (In other words, your check’s in the mail).