The Gifts that Keep on Giving

A post-Katrina nativity scene in uptown New Orleans (click to enlarge!). Thanks to Michael Brown, FEMA, et. al, for a true gift that keeps on giving. Photo by Brian Swanner.

As you know, along with so many unrealistic resolutions to become a better person, the new year brings with it fantasies of rebirth and renewal, what many refer to as “starting anew,” “turning over a new leaf,” “clearing out the cobwebs,” and Trimspa®.

In the spirit of this annual delusion, I’ve been, in the venerable words of Eminem, “cleaning out my closet.” This includes sorting through my extensive collections of stuff: the hundreds of medical illustrations that are no longer useful (excepting Diseases of the Male and Female Reproductive System), my hard-won Hitler memorabilia, and pens.

By definition, this process requires me to generate a huge amount of trash and dispose of it. Anyone who has been to my home or seen one of my now difficult-to-find adult-content photos on the internet would understand how excruciating it is for me to dispose of anything that is not edible or once-edible, or formerly edible. In order to save me a lot of Seeleschmerz and save you time, I’ve made a list of things not to give me. Your gifting funds can be better spent on the high-quality objects not itemized below.

Holiday-themed socks
Socks are always appreciated, but not when I can only get away with wearing them three-to-four weeks per year (max). The next time you see that pair of Santa-wrestles-the-baby-Jesus dress socks or the purple Mogen David knee-highs in the window and think of me, keep walking. Then have a serious conversation with yourself to figure out why tacky socks inspire thoughts of me, and do whatever you can to fix that. Pagan and national holidays, too – I repeat: no more wicker man or "Columbus and the myth of syphilis" hosiery!

Knick knackery of any kind
Please! You have said yourselves or otherwise intimated that I have more than enough Tabasco® cozies, non-functional clocks, antique miniature condiment jars, refrigerator magnets, 1960’s action figures, bendy toys, retabla, Bakelite Viewmasters®, animal figurines hand-carved by indigenous peoples, Japanese kitsch, obscure religious paraphernalia, and unidentifiable bones.

Specialty cookbooks
I love to cook! But I would enjoy continuing to explore the myriad incarnations of nut butter and the arts of milk in my own special way, and I just don’t eat enough pastrami to warrant 365 days of fine cured meats.

Self-help books
Believe it or not, Shut Up, Stop Whining, and Get a Life; Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda: Live in the Present, Find Your Future; When Am I Going to Be Happy?: How to Break the Emotional Bad Habits That Make You Miserable; the Chronic Fatigue box set; and How to Write a Bestselling Self-Help Book: The 69 Fatal Mistakes You Should Avoid are no longer on my “to read” list.

Exercise videos/DVDs
In the small, rural, and remarkably white-bread town in Central California in which I was reared, everything I learned about Jamaica required Pink Floyd a dark room; unfortunately, Jamaica Me S’wet and other fine products of the Jamaican exercise video industry have not yet gained my confidence. And sorry, but I just couldn't get down to Connection Christian Workout, and Chair Dancing Through the Decades ("Get a lively workout without leaving your chair!”). You must know by now that I grew up Jewish in that small, rural, and remarkably white-bread town in Central California, so do the math, Sherlock: I learned to run very fast at an early age. Sure, I moved to Brooklyn, but you know what they say: You can take the terrified Jew out of a podunk farm town, but you can't take the podunk farm town out of the terrified Jew.

Again, thank you everyone for you thoughtful holiday gifts and warm wishes to you all. And for next time, keep in mind that cash is always recommended.