A Twilight Zone Xmas Carol

With snow forecast tonight after midnight and into tomorrow, I decided I'd better pull out the snow blower, gas it up and turn it over. The weatherman didn't seem to want to commit to what the accumulation in inches might be, opting instead to say there might be "an appreciable amount."

Is it my imagination, or does that sound a tad ominous? Appreciable amount? As for me, I'd appreciate very little, thank you! It took about seven hard pulls on the starter lanyard, but it finally kicked over and roared to life. Alas that seventh try also pulled my back! It was only a strain. After a couple of hours with the electric heating pad pressed against the spot, I should be okay.

Don't we all hate it when our "significant others" say things like: I told you so; or Why didn't you do it another way? Don't you hate it when they are right? Conversation before back strain:

S.O. - "Why don't you use the electric starter?"
SELF - (Not wanting to take the time to find and hook up extension cord) "No need. It'll start right up!"

While the back is being treated by the heating pad I guess that means I'll have to be a couch potato tonight. (As opposed to a blog potato.)

For your approval I submit the following post of 12/7/06 from my archives:
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You are about to enter into a dimension not of sight and sound, but of the words of a twisted Blogger. It is a place where sanity exists only in the imagination. In that imagination, sanity has slipped between the cracks.

Case in point: Witness one 85-year-old woman by the name of Christmas Carol. She has just awakened to face a new day, a day that will test her every belief. She is about to step into a morning where her world has been turned upside down. She has signed her name on the dotted line of the Sanity Clause.

When the clock radio had come on she stirred and began to hum to the Christmas carol playing. "Ho-ho the tea rose ... hung close your nose ...," the lyrics emanated from the nightstand. Quizzically she turned to the radio and turned up the the volume. Burl Ives' voice continued, "Have a holly jolly holiday ...And in case you didn't hear ... Have a holly jolly holiday ... This year."

....She was sitting erect now, her creaking joints and aching muscles protesting the transition. The announcer rattled off the station's call letters and dial numbers correctly she noted. Perhaps she was still groggy and didn't hear the lyrics correctly.

....She reached over to grab her hearing aid lying next to the radio. Inexplicably, she couldn't get it to fit into her ear. Try as she could, no matter how many times she turned it, it just wouldn't slip into her ear. She brought it close to her face to figure out what was wrong. It was her dentures! Where was her hearing aid?

....As she waddled to the bathroom, another carol began to play on the radio, "We wish you a happy holiday, we wish you a happy holiday.." She shook her head at what she thought she had heard.

....She tried to snap her fingers, but instead only 'swooshed' them. "Aha!" she exclaimed in triumph. "They're playing parodies of Christmas carols!" She frowned and added, "I thought I was going crazy."

...."Someone must have put music to those parody carols on that Pointmeister fellow's web site," she reasoned aloud. "He must get millions of hits, I suppose it was only a matter of time before he got famous." (Editor's note: Don't laugh. Consider it Blogger's license and reread the opening paragraph.)

...."Then again," she thought, "They might be getting these songs from that Bob Rivers' Twisted Tunes."

She reached into her Polident wash and pulled out her ... hearing aid! It had been submersed overnight in the dentures solution. Squeezing it between her unshaven arm pit and the loose folds of her upper arms she hastily dried it before inserting it into her ear.

....After splashing herself with tepid water, she showered herself with talcum powder and with a few well aimed spritzes from an atomizer declared herself bathed and fresh.

....She opened her front door to take a deep breath of air only to break into a fit of coughing and gagging from the fresh morning ... smog. She regained her composure just in time to see the postman approaching her door. Hoping for some lovely Christmas cards from friends and family she watched in despair as he placed bill after bill instead into her waiting hand.

....As he turned to walk away she said to him, "Merry Christmas!" He stopped and turned white like he'd seen a ghost. He pointed at her but his open mouth said nothing. He then turned and ran from her yard.

....She looked down at herself and giggled. She was still wearing her (circa 1955) sexy nightie. She was looking into the crevasse that was the cleavage of her pendulous hillocks, which she liked to refer to as "the girls."

....Just then to her horror, she noticed that her Nativity scene was gone! It was there just the night before in her yard. Now it was gone! Tears in her eyes, she ran back into the house. She had to call the police to report the theft. After giving the dispatcher her name, address and the reason for her call, she settled onto her sofa to wait for their arrival.

....She began to sift through the mail still clutched in her hand. "What in the world?" she murmured. "That idiot mailman gave me someone else's mail." Something was strange about the mail though. The address was correct, but the name was wrong. It was close, but wrong. Every piece of mail was addressed to Christine Carol. Her name was Christmas Carol, not Christine!

....Suddenly her door burst forth off its hinges. Several men stormed into her house. Instead of the standard blue police uniforms, these men were clad in khaki outfits which bore a patch with the letters "PCG."

....The one who appeared their captain barked orders to the men. "Cuff her men. I want a full body and cavity search - now!"

....She relaxed a bit. "Maybe that police brutality stuff wasn't so bad," she smiled sexily at them. Curiously none of the men moved toward her, their handcuffs still hanging from their belts.

...."I gave you men a direct order!" the leader yelled.

....The men looked at him and then each other and back at him again. Almost in unison they replied to a man, "Uh-uh. Not me, sir." One man said, "Maybe, you should have the honors, sir."

....She squirmed a bit trying to emphasize her body. She'd never been body and full cavity searched before. She was nervous with anticipation.

....The captain looked at the old woman and said, "Okay, you've got a point men. We'll let one of the women down at precinct HQ do it."

...."Damn!" she said in defeat. "When my days go bad, they go bad altogether."

...."Madam," he said sternly, "In the name of the Politically Correct Gestapo, the GPC, I am placing you under arrest for violation of the existing PC Statutes of the United States of Can-American." He paused for effect, "The charges against you include the use of the forbidden word Christmas, claiming that said word is your name, and the insidious suggestion that you had the now abolished Nativity on your property." He looked her in the eye venomously, "How do you plead to those charges, madam?"

In the ensuing weeks while awaiting trial, she had been brought up to speed by the defense lawyer appointed to her. In this nighmare world she had somehow stumbled into, all references to God and Christ had been stricken from the language. Worse yet, use of those references was a capital offense. The word holiday had supplanted the use of the term Christmas.

....She was horrified to learn that the Supreme Court had been replaced by the ACLU. It explained a lot, she thought. In her world, the ACLU had been slowly becoming a cancer to society as it was. She shuddered to think that in this awful world, any insignificant insect involved with the ACLU would actually become relevant. She awaits still for that body search that's never forthcoming.

As the lights dim and the curtain is drawn on the woman formerly known as Christmas Carol, the blind eyes of Liberty must have its blindfold removed. She must open her eyes to the erosion of the freedoms we possess which are being attacked in the name of civil liberties from within. (Remember Pearl Harbor Day while we are still allowed.)

....Let Miss Liberty see the impending danger with this glimpse into ... the Twilight Zone of Christmas Carol.

№ 1556