[Clutch Munny]

Well, it's about that time again.

The Yearly Annual Holiday Letter Appearing Once Per Annum Every December

Another year in the books for us: an incredulous year in its own way, yet highly cromulent as it flew by interfrastically.

I feel particularly lucky to still be alive and writing this letter today, given my role as a soldier in the Attack On Christmas™ that we’re all hearing so much about. Tomorrow I’m slated to take part in a dangerous daylight raid, bombing and strafing Christmas. I’ve already survived a fire-suppression strike against Peace and a supply interdiction mission against Good Will Towards Men, but the Attack On Christmas remains our highest and most dangerous priority. Christmas is deeply dug-in and heavily fortified, so every mission could be my last.

Still, all warriors respect a great foe. In honour of the season, our family would like to share with you a Christmas haiku: a form of Japanese poetry constructed on conventional principles that liberate rather than shackling the creative spirit.

Christmas Haiku
First, five syllables
Then second line: seven more
Now I say ‘Christmas’!

Forgive the tear stains on this letter. The sentiment of that poem gets to me, I confess.

But how about our news? Things were a bit rough at the outset, as George was declared a member of the International Axis of Evil in February. George was already under international sanction for violating the Geneva Convention by repeatedly performing a vicious maneuver, the so-called “Running Crossroads”, on his father, who was under the mistaken impression that this constituted both judo practice and father-son quality time. (The Running Crossroads is recognized as torture by the European Union, as a violation of the Charter by the Supreme Court of Canada, and as a form of “natural family planning” by the Vatican.) The crisis deepened when George was revealed to be “actively seeking to acquire” a watch with a radium “indiglo” face. With only seven billion more such watches he would have possessed enough radioactive material to heat a croissant; so it was only by tense negotiations that we avoided regime change and the democratization of our household.

Perhaps the stress of this crisis got to Colleen. She was already fed up with work, and was contemplating a transfer to Our Lady of Incredulous Stares Collegiate, when she heard the news about George’s WMD* and my being sentenced to the Chair. She broke and ran, disappearing for three weeks and eventually showing up with a bag full of Chinese knick-knacks. Initially it was thought she’d gone to China. Later it emerged that she had been in the crawlspace the whole time, sorting through unopened wedding presents from 1989. Rumours of a go-go dancer with similar features touring Southeast Asian dance clubs have been put down to a combination of sporadic delirium caused by avian flu, an accidental spill of LSD in the Yangtze, and a secret twin sister also named Colleen. Rumours of a hiker with similar features on the Buddhist holy mountain of Emei, snarling at monkeys and sleeping among the monks (or possibly vice-versa), have been put down to a secret triplet sister, also, remarkably, named Colleen.

Madeleine, now seven, took up hockey in the autumn. Her suspension began shortly afterwards; there are signs that the other kid will regain movement in his toes sometime in the new year. As always she’s a bright and cheerful soul, looking ahead at good times to come. “Ooo, I can’t wait until Christmas,” she says, “gets bombed and strafed.” She’s also often heard to squeal, “I can’t wait until I’m old enough to have my ears pierced!” and “And I can’t wait until I can gamble legally on the Internet!” She does quite well gambling under her assumed name, and as long as the elderly neighbour doesn’t miss the credit card, it’s all financially risk-free.

Annalise’s fixation on pioneers and natives faded this year in favour of an obsession with medieval times and customs. She loved her school unit on the history of the era, frequently pretending to be an alchemist in her imaginative play at home. While she never succeeded in turning lead into gold, her home chemistry set came in handy when she was able to introduce the Black Plague into her school, wiping out the teacher and four-fifths of the class, and abruptly ending the Middle Ages study unit. “Just like history!” she enthused. She’s an imp, all right!

Of course things never change much with me. As I mentioned, the Dean has sworn that I’ll be getting the Chair if he has any say in things. He says it’s for “every damned thing” I’ve done around the university; I’ve never seen anyone so committed to rewarding academic service. (Apparently there’s even some sort of “strapping-in” ceremony!) So I’m looking forward to the leadership role, which the Dean promises I will find electrifying.

And that’s our news of the year. Have a happy and successful 2006!


*Watch with Mickey Dial.
“Attack On Christmas” USA © Fox News Corp., Canadian © CanWest Global Media.