From the Crow’s Nest
by CLINT YOUNTS
Now that the last sliver of turkey is gone and the leftover red cranberry sauce has spots of green and white mixed in, I have officially declared it is Christmas season. That’s right, I used the term “Christmas” and if anyone has a problem with my use of that word, come out to the Crow’s Nest so I can clobber you with my Yule log. ’Round these parts, folks still celebrate Christmas, unlike our neighbors in Travis County with their “Holiday Tree” in Zilker Park and the now defunct Trail of Lights. Over in Buda, we have our own Trail of Lights. I’m planning to go once the temperature drops out of the 80s, and I bet there’s a Christmas tree somewhere along the trail.
I understand there are numerous residents of a non-Christian faith residing here in Central Texas, and I fully respect your religion and traditions, but please let us Christians celebrate our holiest holiday with traditions that our forefathers brought to this country. So if I wrap Christmas lights around a rusty old Chevy truck with four flat tires and a squirrel’s nest under the hood, enjoy the sight. If I turn a dead cedar into a festive, twinkling Christmas tree, don’t complain. And if I place my plywood cut-out of Santa wearing cowboy boots and a Stetson, appreciate this fine Texas art form. If these Yule time displays offend you as you drive by our ranch, then I think it’s high time you discover an alternate route because once I figure out how to keep a strand of Christmas lights on my bull, you’re gonna hate my manger scene.
Like most folks, I love the Christmas season with all the decorations and music, although the songs tend to get old when they emanate from radios and stores’ loudspeakers long before your Jack-o’-lantern turns all mushy. I like going to small town festivals with vendors selling homemade Christmas decorations and delicious holiday vittles. I especially like the way people, even complete strangers, become so friendly during the Christmas season. This wondrous behavior often starts around Thanksgiving, excluding the wicked wee hours of Black Friday where I have personally witnessed the horrors of what a sign reading “75% Off” can do to normally sane women.
I reckon the only part of the Christmas season that I don’t like is the tradition of gift-giving. Now don’t get me wrong; I love receiving gifts, and if any of y’all out there wish to drop off a thoughtful gift at the Crow’s Nest, please do. What I don’t like is shopping for others. I never know what to buy folks. Little kids are easy. I like going to toy stores and checking out all the cool stuff, but put me in a Kohl’s or a Dillard’s and I’m as befuddled as a vegan at a meat market. I wander around glassy-eyed, trying to find gifts that won’t be returned to that same store on December 26. And, Lord have mercy upon my soul if I were to stray into the lingerie department. I don’t know why, but I get all nervous around those scantily clad mannequins. I don’t even want to think what would happen if Maw catches me checking the price tag on one of those transparent nighties.
Thanks to the internet, I am able to do my shopping at home. I don’t have to risk getting run over at the Outlet Mall by a car with Mexico license plates, or venture into Barton Creek Mall and be subjected to obnoxious music-like tunes blasting out from shops staffed with teenaged clerks with scary body piercings and tattoos. Nope, I’ll just sit here at my desk, sipping a holiday quaff in my Scooby Doo pajamas and shop at Amazon.com and other e-tailer stores for my peeps.
Unfortunately, there are always those family members who are just about impossible to shop for. Those guys who already have everything imaginable and don’t need another flashlight or camouflaged underwear from Cabela’s. I used to buy them something nice at Twin Liquors, but after a day out shopping and battling traffic in the big city, Uncle Bob’s gift has been opened and drained well below the label. These relatives are the ones on my shopping list who cause me to add more nog to my egg nog.
I bet lots of you guys have friends or family members like this, never sure what to buy for them. Well, after some extensive searching on the web, I have a few suggestions:
1. Although several web sites listed a nose hair trimmer as the worst gift to give a guy, I personally wouldn’t mind one. What guy wouldn’t? I can’t count the number of accidents I’ve had with Maw’s pinking shears.
2. For the guy who has everything, or so he thinks, I just read that Lee Harvey Oswald’s original coffin is up for sale, body not included. Oswald’s body had been exhumed years ago for testing to be sure the stiff in this coffin wasn’t some Russian secret agent and was tossed into a new coffin later. Now this old, moldy pine box will be auctioned off, starting the bidding at $1000. I’m not sure what one would use this casket for. Maybe as a planter box. It already has compost and worms in it.
3. For your friends who suffer with unruly body hair, there is a product called “Hairy Butt Wax.” Just slather on your cheeks, let it dry, then yank that unwanted booty bouffant right off. The label warns against applying the wax to your face. I think after the first application to one’s buttocks, this jar and its contents won’t get near one’s face.
4. Has this ever happened to y’all: You are having a family get-together, perhaps a Thanksgiving meal; the dining room is crammed with relatives, in-laws and outlaws, when someone releases a rather foul emission from his lower G-I tract. You suspect who it is, but everyone just grimaces and acts like it never happened. Well, thanks to a company in Australia, there are some new drawers on the market that are made with some special odor-absorbing fibers that will capture ones flatulent faux pas, corralling the noxious odor at the source of emission. What a wonderful gift for the man who has everything, including irritable bowel syndrome.
I hope I was of some help to you Christmas shoppers out there. This being the season of giving, I find it appropriate to give you some right fine advice. Gift-giving makes me feel all warm inside, or did I use too much nog in this here toddy? Well, I must leave my home computer now and drive out to the city to get Maw a Christmas gift. Tractor Supply has a John Deere toilet seat on sale that she will absolutely love.
Clint Younts works at a veterinary clinic while running cattle on his property. He likes giving his cuz advise on shopping right before they slip into the tractor shed for a nip of his special hooch.
