P&J used to think that when it came time to cull the herd in America, those folks who waited two days outside Walmart or Best Buy to take advantage of discounted shopping on Thanksgiving night or early Black Friday morning should be at the top of the list. But now we believe the honor should go to anyone who has spent more than one minute discussing the manufactured furor over whether to call it a Christmas tree or holiday tree at the State House. (Please go right to the head of the line, Bishop Tobin.)
P&J are not surprised at the righteous indignation of those who demand a tribute to what the earliest scrolls refer to as "Xmas." All devout Christians are well aware of the distinct relevance the evergreen carries in the story of the birth of Jesus Christ — as important to celebrating that epic event as eating chocolate bunnies and marshmallow peeps is to celebrating the resurrection of J.C. on Easter.
Who can forget that Joseph and Mary, in a stable in Bethlehem, were surrounded by a forest of old-growth evergreens — pine cones occasionally rattling down upon the roof of their humble shelter as the savior emerged from the womb to be wrapped in swaddling clothes.
And we all know the Three Wise Men traveled from afar to present the baby Jesus with bottles of Pine-Sol, a hanging, pine-scented air freshener in the shape of a tree, and a Shop-Vac to clean up all the fallen needles in the manger.
So onward, Christian soldiers, what better way to show your devotion than to demand that no one save for a pagan would dare call this icon of your faith a "holiday" tree. (Oops, gotta scoot, we want to get Junior's picture sitting on the lap of a man dressed in a shabby red costume wearing a fake beard and reeking slightly of Big Macs and Christian Brothers brandy before we go to midnight Mass.)
GOP BLUES
P&J were devastated to hear the news that Ken McKay was stepping down as head ramrod of the state Republican Party.
Ken not only leant significant credibility to Vo Dilun's Grand Old Party (membership: 53), but was a very entertaining, wild and crazy guy who always had a good quote for the ink-stained scribes in the media.
His credentials — he worked for The Don, Governor Carcieri, and at the national GOP committee, albeit with loony Michael Steele, an incompetent for whom he was forced to take the fall — were as solid as any Republican in this state could hope to claim.
Ken's departure leaves the field open for chief of the Republican tribe. Personally, your superior correspondents would favor the party's executive director, Patrick Sweeney, who launched a bid earlier this year to succeed former party chair Giovanni Cicione, but graciously acceded to McKay to maintain party unity.
Young Republican Sweeney, a partner in crime in the youth movement with our buddy Travis Rowley, whose candidacy is doubtless off the table due to his work with US Senate hopeful, Barry Hinckley, may be barking mad politically, but he's got a lot of energy and would certainly keep things amusing.
