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Show I i Ode to a Dead Santa i "Well, Ralphie, howja enjoy your Thanksgiving dinner?" "Fine, you say, except for that sprig of cardboard mistletoe mistle-toe in your mashed potatoes?" "Yeah, I found a piece of plastic holley in my candied yams. . ." And so it goes across the nation. The Thanksgiving turkey is becoming more and more the Christmas goose. In Salt Lake City (and we would venture to guess the rest of our fair land) the downtown streets have become fir-lined tunnels, all green and plastic, conveying nothing more than "Buy! Buy! Only 20 or 30 or 40 shopping days left ... Buy!" We are inclined to say "Phooey ..." We do not particularly wish to legislate Christmas into nothingness; nor do we wish to become maudlin by harping on the old 'Put Christ Back into Christmas' theme. All we would ask for is some sort of immunity from 'Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer', the U.S. Post Office making us feel as if we were committing treason by not 'mailing early', and Santa Claus parades booming out the 'Buy Big' jazz-immunity jazz-immunity at least in months other than December. Santa is dead. His obituary may have stated the cause of death was extreme emotional stress and overwork at this juncture in time, space and commercialism, we believe it should have. |