Cherokee Sage Woman

Betty Bowers' Christmas 2005 Newsletter


Seasons Bleatings to those few remaining unindicted Republicans out there whose unblinking loyalty cannot be diluted by the vicious media's newfound, punctilious obsession with unpatriotic facts!

Friends, it is the Christmas season, and you know what that means. Yes, once again, it is time to be on vigilant lookout for malicious seasonal affronts by complete strangers. Such barbarous insults will most often come in the form of a foully exclaimed "Happy Holidays!" disingenuously palmed off by the irretrievably unsaved as a benign pleasantry.

As Christians, it is essential to remain cognizant of the seemingly illogical fact that even though we constitute the vast preponderance of Americans, we are constantly the object of cruel persecution by the majority of our fellow citizens. And during the Christmas season this insidious anti-Christian harassment most often takes the creatively sneaky form of politeness by strangers.

Therefore, it is imperative that when you see someone baring a charming smile or other outward signs of a predisposition to warmly greet (be alert for nefarious waves or other gestures meant to disarm you), you must be ready to verbally pummel this would-be well-wisher with fiery, barbed indignation. When some Darwin-worshipper or yarmulke-sporting outsider wishes you, say, "A joyous Holiday Season," treat their shocking rudeness as an opportunity to upbraid them for failing to investigate the god you worship before impetuously rushing into attempts at convivial greeting. Indeed, if someone has the temerity to wish you a so-called "Happy Holidays," you must be prepared to rebuke them with a ferocity that would melt an obese snowman from forty paces.

The following Christmas-themed rejoinder has served me rather well when confronted by a cheerful stranger on the other side of a stack of cashmere cardigans at Saks, and I give you full license to use it without attribution or provocation:

"Pardon me, but who the H E double-L do you think you are muttering your saccharine, inclusive good wishes to me, an evangelical Christian? If you can't have the decency to specifically acknowledge my personal brand of faith, you can kindly shut your evolution-espousing cakehole, Missy!"

After the relentless quality of your pious wrath has had a moment to settle in on the supposedly genial secular humanist, turn the other cheek and offer the Christ-like salutation:

"May the love and peace of my Lord Jesus be with all mankind this Christmas -- even unsaved trash like you, who run about spewing pagan incantations of jollity! Merry Christmas!"

You will then be free to turn your attention more fully to the raison d'etre for celebrating the birth of the Baby Jesus in the first place (black Amex card wielding shopping!), sanguine in the knowledge that you have just treated someone to a mild preview of the humiliating public scolding that awaits her on Judgment Day. The godly bonus for your unction is that you will have sufficiently startled the heathen shopper just long to pry the last crocodile Asprey handbag from her disoriented, weakened grasp. Verily, you will be at the cash register before she even realizes that she was just slapped by the blunt backhand of righteousness! Glory!

Stand ready to pointedly correct any unauthorized display of mirth or unapproved appellations throughout December. It is not a Holiday Tree, it is a Christmas Tree! And why is it a Christmas tree? Well, because that is what our Christian forefathers decided to call it almost 2,000 years ago. That is when they resourcefully stole it and the entire Winter Solstice Holiday from the pagans and, with nary an alteration, rechristened the wildly popular ancient holiday "The Christmas Shopping Season." They may have had it first, but we are louder!

No one understands the importance of rebranding better than we image-conscious Republicans. William Shakespeare was amusingly naïve when he suggested that a McDonald's french fry would taste just as withered, salty and cold if called a Freedom Fry. But Americans are always more observant of what something is called, rather than what it actually is. Otherwise, we would take time from work in early November for "Uncounted Gestures," rather than "Voting," Barbara Walters would be statutorily barred from referring to Teri Hatcher as "fascinating," and loyally regurgitating partisan talking points would not be called "Fair and Balanced" unless accompanied by a smirk and derisive laughter.

While I tend to pay scrupulous attention to labels in garments, the significance of other labels is not lost on even our tenaciously incurious President. After all, he was shrewd enough this week to finally repackage his long standing "Unplanned Defeat" in Iraq as a "Plan for Victory" in Iraq without changing anything other than the words on the colorful backdrop behind him.

But outside of the incidental (well, daily) $5,000/plate GOP fundraiser, our President asks for surprisingly little before agreeing to prevaricate by rote in front of large groups of people. Indeed, except for an easily digestible jingoistic catchphrase on a PowerPoint milieu, Mr. Bush's only prerequisite is a group in military uniform that asks no unvetted questions and doesn't churlishly calibrate its applause to respond to the actual content of the speech. Regrettably, the only thing more difficult to find than such a compliant prop for the President's televised speeches this Christmastime is a Republican not under criminal investigation.

This is in spite of the fact that the news from Iraq is surprisingly good. Well, it should be at those prices! Yes, as I am sure you have heard, in a felicitous effort to make Iraq more like America (a hearty Christian shout-out to Maggie "Talk To Me About the Surprisingly Cheap Price of My Opinions" Gallagher!), our government has been paying for propaganda to be featured in the Iraqi press.

Karl Rove, nimbly one barely discernible step ahead of a gaining Patrick Fitzgerald, defended the administration's extravagant policy of paying al a carte for news by saying, "When reality gives you lemons, shift enough money from covert concentration camps around to buy yourself some lemonade!"

Wishing you and your ferociously evangelical, Republican family a lovely CHRISTMAS as you open extravagant gifts, sip Swiss Miss cocoa, watch Fox News and contemplate "Whom Would Jesus Torture?" on Baby Jesus Day.

So Close to Jesus, His Brusque Christmas Shopping Has Made Me Persona non Grata at Dolce & Gabbana,

Mrs. Betty Bowers

America's Best Christian