Chestnuts Roasting in an Open Column on a Cold Day

Bob Citron sat straight up in bed, sweat pouring from inside his nightcap and spilling down the sides of his face. “Who goes there?” he cried. “Present yourself!” At the foot of Citron’s bed, a shadowy figure weaved in the darkness before speaking in a deep, haunting voice. “It is I, Joe Taxpayer’s Ghost, and I’ve come to----

No. No, no, no.

You will not do it.

This is your Column Conscience speaking. I don’t care if it is the Christmas season. You will not haul out moth-eaten yuletide cliches and try to spin them into columns. Darn it, you’re better than that. You will not demean yourself. Just take a few minutes and think of something else. This is your chance to contribute something of your own to the Christmas lore.

. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

“My, you’re a big fellow,” Santa said, as the 6-foot-4 reveler plopped onto his lap, causing Santa to wobble on his shopping mall perch and his beard to go askew. “You’ve been eating your vegetables. Now, what would you like for Christmas?” The “kid” looked Santa in the eye and said, “Hi, my name is Brad Gates and I’d like some more jail space and some shiny new equipment and a----

Now, don’t panic. Take a deep breath. Relax. Get up and walk around. Every Tom, Dick and Harry resorts to the old what-public-figures-want-for-Christmas

column. So, that’s exactly what you’re not going to do. Besides, if you’re going to dredge that one up, the least you could do is make it funny. It’s absurd to say you can’t think of anything original for the holidays. It’s just a matter of putting on the old thinking cap.

. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

“Dear Mr. Editor: “The kids in my third-grade class at school say there’s no such thing as Santy Claus. My dad says whatever gets printed in the newspaper is true, except for sports predictions, so if you say there is a Santy Claus, then it must be true. What gives?

Signed, Alice in Orange County.”

“Dear Alice: You’re right, Alice, everything printed in the newspaper is true. But, my young friend, we must acknowledge that this is a cynical age in which we live and while it may be tempting to--”

Oh, brother. Is that ever lame. C’mon, man, have some pride in yourself. What’s the matter with you? Eleven months of the year, you think of stuff to write about. Why should turning the calendar page to December turn you into a mindless rehasher? So what if everybody else falls back on warmed-over material? That doesn’t mean you have to. Fight it, fight it. Sure, everyone reworks the “Yes, Virginia” bit year after year, but that’s just the point. The original can’t be improved upon. Why does everyone keep trying? If you’re going to use it, just reprint the original. Modernizing it is like updating the lyrics to “White Christmas.” What’s the matter, can’t you create something on your own? And quit staring at the clock. You’ve got plenty of time to think of something.

. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

The devilish man with the red hair and florid cheeks was shouting to all within earshot. “I was robbed, I was robbed!” he shouted, “and right before the holidays, to boot!” In real life, his name was Bob Dornan, but everyone knew him as “The Grinch Who Said They Stole the Election From Him.” And no matter what anyone said, he was going to--”

Gimme a break. OK, so you’re perspiring a bit. So, it’s late in the day and you need a Christmas-season column. You’ve been tempted to dip into the old familiar well, but you’ve had the courage to stop yourself. Think how good you’ll feel when you see all those other pundits recycling while you create your own artistic legend. Surely, all the good stuff hasn’t been thought of.

Think.

Create.

No cliches this Christmas.

. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

All right, I give up. If you’re going to start whimpering, I’ll get off your back. It’s just that, as your conscience, I was hoping you were better than that.

Do whatever you want.

‘Twas the night before Christmas and the Orange County supes,

Were fussin’ and fightin’ and actin’ like----

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by writing to him at the Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or calling (714) 966-7821.