Why it's so hard to get your hands on the Christmas toy your kid really wants

 Some toy makers purposely hold back supply in an effort to drum up attention and incite a potential sales boost once more are released post-holidays, analysts said. 

from the LA Times

A mother who lived in Long Beach
found toys for her kids out of reach;
with lines round the block
and then out of stock,
she pulled out her hair with a screech. 

Mother and Child

This night a mother suckles her newborn babe, both refugees
from tyranny and death and other agents of unease.
Tonight may ev'ry mother find the heart to persevere 
in the face of sorrow without overwhelming fear.
The Star of Bethlehem shine on the two of you always
and keep the Herod-men at bay with power from its rays.

The Way of the Lefse

Like the 'Way of the Gaucho', the 'Way of the Lefse' is a mysterious lifestyle that you have to be born into. Those who are not initiated early into its ritual are never fully able to understand and embrace it. It is not about potatoes. It is not about butter, sugar, and cinnamon. It is most definitely not about calories and weight gain.

Rather, it is a mindset that involves toiling over a broiling hot round griddle with a pine wand flattened at one end used to weave a Nordic magic redolent of burnt flour and soggy pine cones. The end result is often considered inedible by the Southern nations of the world -- places like Italy, Brazil, and Australia consider lefse a hiss and byword. It is outlawed in Tasmania; anyone caught trying to smuggle it into the country is pilloried without scruple.

The Way of the Lefse began as the only way to destroy the mid-winter potato threat in Norwegian households. Being a prudent, not to say hoarding, bunch, Norwegians begin collecting burlap sacks of raw potatoes in late autumn, and continue through the Yuletide season. By then their rustic cottages are so jammed with spuds that there is no space left to sleep. So the wily Norsk starts boiling up the potatoes in huge kettles, then mashes them with flour and butter, rolls them out, and cooks them up on a griddle. The result makes a tasty mid-winter snack, or can be used to patch the roof after a nasty syklon.  

During the process of lefse-making, it is traditional -- nay, expected -- that other foodstuffs and potent beverages will be brought out to nosh on. Pickled herring; goat cheese; flagons of aquavit -- a generous smorgasbord is spread before the lefse makers to keep up their stamina and strength. The whole process will continue late into the night -- or until the alkohol runs out.

The next day the entire household is usually paralyzed with calorie poisoning and stays in bed until the rats start gnawing on the yule log. At least, a few of the poisoned will imagine they see rats gnawing on the yule log . . .

The Way of the Lefse is only for the hardy Northern soul. All others should go read the Pickwick Papers or some other sentimental Holiday pap and drown their seasonal sorrows in treacly eggnog.

Dog poop, GPS trackers and security cameras: Cracking down on Christmas package thieves

Customers are increasingly using Amazon, EBay and other retailers to buy goods they previously purchased in stores — especially around Christmas, when UPS delivers more than 30 million packages per day in the week before the holiday.
The problem is that many of those package end up on unattended doorsteps, unlocked mailboxes and stoops. All this curbside commerce has created a new class of criminal dedicated to pilfering as many packages as possible.

from the LA Times

A sneak thief who lived in L.A.
with packages oft got away.
The cops set a trap
involving dog crap;
that crook now is sure guano pay!  

In Indonesia, an Islamic Edict Seeks to Keep Santa Hats Off Muslims

This month, the Indonesian Ulema Council, the country’s largest body of Islamic clerics, issued a religious edict barring Muslims from wearing Christmas-themed clothing, specifically those working in shopping malls, department stores and restaurants.

from the New York Times

A stupid old cleric insisted

that Christmas time should be resisted.

He said the great Allah

would certainly hollah

if goodwill to people persisted. 

Scientists are trying to save the climate from toxic cow burps

 A 2013 report from the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations estimated that 44 percent of the methane — a heat-trapping gas 25 times as potent as carbon dioxide — associated with human activity comes from the global livestock industry. Most of it is released through the animals' front ends.

from the Washington Post


There once was a gassy old cow
who burped up methane from her prow.
She caused such bad blood
because of her cud,
they chopped her into puppy chow. 

Albuquerque concedes forfeiture was illegal, continues with illegal forfeitures

Authorities in Albuquerque
treat the law like a roast turkey.
They slice it the way
they want it to lay;
enforcement is all herky jerky. 

The Christmas Pickle

Sascha Müller of the Lauscha glass center, in the eastern German region where the making of glass Christmas ornaments started in the mid-19th century, said he had learned of the Christmas pickle for the first time in the 1990s, on a trip to Frankenmuth, Mich.

from the New York Times

Hang a pickle on your tree,
Christmas morn you'll happy be!
Ev'ry child should feel the thrill
of the Yuletide's bright green dill!
If a pickle you ain't got,
try a carrot or kumquat.
Decorate howe'er you want;
me, I like a fresh croissant! 

Light the World #24

But I have commanded you to bring up your children in light and truth.  

D&C 93:40

To give your children light and truth, it must reside in you;
otherwise you give them nothing more than blurry view.
Cleave to honest light and candor, praying night and day
that all you do and say is done the Savior's joyful way.
For angels hover closer than you know by ev'ry child,
lighting up their minds to follow Jesus Christ the Mild.
Our little ones, like stars above, will twinkle happily
when we use the lamps of that great Man from Galilee. 

Your Christmas Card is coming late

Your Christmas card is coming late; I hope you do not mind.
I sealed them in their envelopes, but left them all unsigned.
And so I had to open them; the envelopes were spoiled.
Then fruitcake crumbs spilled over them, and thus the cards were soiled.
Going out to buy some more, I slipped upon the ice,
and cracked my funny bone so hard it needed quite a splice.
The dollar store was out of cards that showed the proper cheer,
(besides, the envelopes were cheap -- refusing to adhere)
I rummaged in my dresser till I found some old ones that
didn't look too dog-eared and could still be pressed down flat.
A dab of Wite-Out did the trick -- they were as good as new.
But then I started sneezing and I came down with the flu!
The agony and runny nose cannot here be described;
the doctor was a slacker and just Tylenol prescribed. 
I lay in bed for days and days, subsisting on thin soup,
ignoring all my duties like a blasted nincompoop.
And when I had recovered I discovered amidst cramps
that I had gone and run completely out of postage stamps.
The Post Office was frantic, and the line ran out the door.
The stamp machine was broken (OMG -- can there be more?)
The supermarket sold me stamps -- I bought some discount meat,
and spent the night regretting it upon my toilet seat.
At last the cards were good to go, but one of Trump's lackeys
hauled me in for questioning about 'the strawberries'. 
And if you're not familiar with that literary trope,
Merry Christmas anyways from this here misanthrope.