If ever, Sredni Vashtar forbid, I am on my deathbed, awaiting the chance to meet the Great Ferret, and my son brings me a pair of shoes that he begged money off some random sappy stranger to buy...promise me you will all help me rise from my Love Story-diseased pillow and help me beat him till he is ready to meet his maker alongside me.

I have done the whole rant about Christmas carols before, venting my spleen on the less well-known latter verses of "Jingle Bells". But at least that is semi-traditional. "Grown-Up Christmas List" and the horridly saccharine twee-infested spewfest that is "Christmas Shoes"? ARE PART OF THE REASON WHY PEOPLE HATE AMERICA.

Dear Bible Belt: bring on your creation museums. I will feast on your green-bean casserole till the agribusiness cows come home on their little stump legs. I will take note of your appliqued sweatshirts and wish you a Merry Christmas, and will not even roll my eyes at your little sign reading "Jesus is the Reason for the Season". But for the love of all this is supposedly holy about this season, please stop inflicting shit like this on the national airwaves. If you can tell the FCC to stop flashing people's nipples, I can tell them that this song is a menace to the very fabric of our society.

Anyone can tell you that I can be an overly sentimental basket case. Who is weeping over all these soldiers surprising their families at schools and mall Santa lines? Me. Who bawls their eyes out at any commercial involving David Duchovny and photos of sad pets? Me. Who still sobs during The Sixth Sense, of all the goddamn things, when Cole tells his mom that he "talks to Grandma all the time...she says she saw you dance"? Me. (That last one, by the way, is at least a six or seven tissue event. Oh god, Toni Collette rocks that scene so hard.)

But that line in the sand is drawn at little boys who would rather buy shoes to bury someone in. So fucking morbid! I admit, it's partially the Tiny Tim pathos that I loathe; if there is a character in literature whom I despise more than Ignatius O'Reilly, it is Tiny motherfucking Tim Cratchit. He is okay in some incarnations; as played by Robin in A Muppet Christmas Carol, he is tolerable. As foil to Ebenezer Picard, he is cavity-making in the extreme. (Sometimes I think I'm getting more Republican as I age, or maybe it's just because I love Patrick Stewart, because that particular film version makes me sympathize with Scrooge more than anyone. On an unrelated note, Fred is played by Dominic West, who should be in everything ever.)

I can't even begin to see another side to it. I just can't. On top of everything else, does Jesus really care if you're wearing shoes or not? Seriously? If it comes right down to it and you're going to get sympathy from strangers, make them buy you groceries, you little dimbulb, and let me and Jesus worry about the goddamn dress code in the afterlife. I'm fairly sure that anything goes.