Christmas: Season of Gustatory Wonders! The Insufferable Gourmand Nick Rickles
December 23, 2008 – A question, dear reader: What is it, exactly, about this beloved Christmas season that elicits such joy amongst the populace? Is it the exchange of long-sought gifts? The cracklesome hearth, roaring steadily athwart the placid spruce? The televised goodness of perennial chestnuts such as A Christmas Story, It’s a Wonderful Life, and Santa Shat my Stocking?
You, friend, may point to any of these as reason enough for our wintry exultations. But, sadly—as you so often are, you insolent, dun-smeared cretin—you would be wrong. There is one Yuletide tradition, above all others, that is the true cause of our cheerful contentment. Can you guess what it is? What’s that? Oh, please, can you at least try? Oh, for heaven’s—all right, you brain-dead scum! You’ve forced my hand!
It is, my dear friend, the food!
Oh, yes. The cuisine of Christmastime is the most enchanting and, yea, delicious of the entire year. Now, you may say, “But Mr. Rickles, I tend to prefer the bestuffinged turkeys of Thanksgiving; the great suckling hams of Easter.” And I will respond by beating you savagely with an iron skillet, giggling happily as you scream like a medieval heretic, lashed to the burning stake.
Because Christmas food is the most wonderful food of all.
Firstly: what is finer than the thick, rum-tinged goodness of fresh-whipped egg nog? There is nothing on earth quite so delightful as tucking into four or five gallons of homemade nog—quaffing of its thick, creamy goodness until it trickles quietly from the mouth, the heart audibly slowing with placid, nogsome contentment. Some archaic types cling to the idea that Christ was born to render The Lord in human, bearded form. What utter hogwash. The immaculate conception’s true achievement was to allow, 2,000 years hence, the unbridled consumption of viscous, sugary nog.
But let us not forget the baked goods—O, the baked goods! Hosanna upon high, the baking that takes place at Christmastime is enough, nearly, to wipe queasy memories of Uncle Harris completely from the mind! Armies of gingerbread men. Stacks of sugar cookies. Bathrooms piled high with fruitcake. Just the thought of these oven-caressed wonders is enough to set me wassailing at the top of my lungs, spittle a-flying, Cowper’s glands churning like a hunchbacked Amish butter-maid. Silent Night, indeed!
Lastly, the bounteous supper dishes—the supple, gleaming roasts, the lightly-Brusseled sprouts, the potatoes, like tiny infant’s heads, hot and steaming from the sizzlesome broiler. Much like the late Nell Carter, this wondrous Christmas dinner seduces with its moist, fatty richness and mischievous, insouciant glee. I often find these Yuletide meals to be so overwhelming in their otherworldly tastiness that afterwards, satiated, cheeks and half-gorged nethers smeared with fragrant grease, I engage in a nudely furious loll on the carpet—my simple, ecstatic method of honoring the magnificence of the season’s succulent victuals. These member-flapsome postprandial revelings are, of course, shadowed by the bittersweet knowledge that I shan’t eat so well again for 12 long months. But this harsh truth cannot be avoided. It is as much a part of December 25th as the wreath on the door, the nativity on the mantel, and remembering, a lone tear running down the cheek, that Elizabeth left 17 years ago to the day, forgetting, in her haste, to leave a forwarding address. And it is all caused by the toothsome culinary delights of Christmastime—the lip-smackingly munificent king of holidays!
Oh, Merry Christmas, friend! Merry Christmas, indeed! I do love you, after all!
Inquirer Formally Apologizes For Marley and Me December 23, 2008 –
The Philadelphia Inquirer yesterday issued a formal apology for its central role in the creation of Marley and Me, the forthcoming film [see trailer below] based on the book by former Inquirer columnist John Grogan. “In giving Mr. Grogan the employment necessary to allow the book’s writing, we bear a great deal of responsibility for this tragedy,” said Editor-in-Chief Bill Marimow, reading from a statement at a remarkable midday news conference. “And though Amanda Bennett was editor during Mr. Grogan’s tenure, she is no longer here… and it is up to me to atone for the Inquirer’s sins.”
According to angry local film critics, the apology was long overdue. “It is clear that without the Inquirer’s complicity, there would have been no Marley and Me,” said CityPaper’s Cindy Fuchs. “For years, they turned a blind eye as John Grogan carried on with his career—leading us down a horrifying path of unconscionable schmaltz.” Added Sean Burns of Philadelphia Weekly, “Perhaps the paper truly believed that they did nothing wrong in giving [Grogan] a safe haven—but look at the consequence: a feel-good doggy movie starring Jennifer Aniston and Owen Wilson. It’s nothing less than a crime against humanity.”
Grogan, though, believed that his former employers had nothing to atone for. “I think the paper should be proud of having had a hand in the success of the book,” he said by telephone from Uruguay. “And as for my critics? They should ‘Heel the Love,’ as it were. Hee hee—get it? ‘Heel’ the love? This is great stuff.” Marimow, though, seemed to disagree. “Our only hope is that Marley and Me fades quickly, and that our unfortunate participation in its existence will be forgiven. To paraphrase the film’s tagline, at this moment, I truly feel like the world’s worst dog.”
Christmas: Season of Gustatory Wonders!
According to angry local film critics, the apology was long overdue. “It is clear that without the Inquirer’s complicity, there would have been no Marley and Me,” said CityPaper’s Cindy Fuchs. “For years, they turned a blind eye as John Grogan carried on with his career—leading us down a horrifying path of unconscionable schmaltz.” Added Sean Burns of Philadelphia Weekly, “Perhaps the paper truly believed that they did nothing wrong in giving [Grogan] a safe haven—but look at the consequence: a feel-good doggy movie starring Jennifer Aniston and Owen Wilson. It’s nothing less than a crime against humanity.”
