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It's time to start getting in the mood for Christmas--in a politically correct way, of course! So, read on folks. 

T'was the night before Christmas, and Santa was a wreck. How to live in a world that's politically correct? His workers no longer would answer to "Elves."  They were calling themselves "Vertically Challenged." And labor conditions at the North Pole were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.

Four reindeer had vanished without much propriety. Released to the wilds by the Humane Society, and the Equal Employment folks had made it quite clear that Santa had better not use just reindeer. So Dancer and Donner, Comment, and Cupid were replaced with four pigs. Boy did that look stupid!

The runners had been removed from Santa's sleigh because the runners were said to be dangerous by the E.P.A., and some folks had called the cops when the heard sled noises on their roof tops. Second-hand smoke from Santa's pipe had his workers quite frightened, and his fur-trimmed, red suit was called "unenlightened."

And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows, Rudolf was suing over the unauthorized use of his nose and had gone on "Geraldo" in front of the nation to demand millions in over due compensation. So, half the reindeer were gone, and Santa's wife, who suddenly said she'd had enough of this life, joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz, demanding that from now on that people address her as "Ms."

As for the gifts, why Santa's never had a notion that making a choice could cause so much commotion. Nothing of leather; nothing of fur, which  meant nothing for him, and nothing for her. Nothing that might be consruded to pollute. Nothing to aim. Nothing to shoot. Nothing that clamored or made lots of noise. Nothing just for girls or just for boys. Nothing that claimed to be gender specific. Nothing that's war-like or non- pacific.

No candy or sweets because they are bad for the tooth. Nothing that seems to embellish a truth. And while fairy tales are not yet forbidden, like Barbie and Ken, they are better off hidden, for they raise the hackles of those psychological who claim that the only good gift is one that is ecological.

So, Santa just stood there, disheveled and perplexed. He could just not figure out what to do next. He tried to be merry; tried to be gay--but you have to be careful with that word today. His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground because nothing fully acceptable was to be found. Something special was needed, a gift that he might give to all without angering the left or the right.

A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision, each group of people, every religion, every ethnicity, every hue--everyone, everywhere--even you! So here is that gift, its price beyond worth: "May you and your loved ones enjoy pace on Earth!"

 

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