I have no use for political correctness in any form.

Let’s see if I can define it for you: The modern art of not saying something that is basically true.

Or how ’bout this: The modern art of not telling the truth.

Please don’t misunderstand me… (Ya’ll know I’m frequently hating of the being of the misunderstooding, right?) There are times when we should not say a thing or three, but that should result in silence, not avoidance, at least in my not-so humble-opinion.

Cheryl and I discussed it very early on, during our first phone call as I, uh, recall:

“I pretty much say whatever comes to mind at the time”

“I agree, but sometimes it’s better not to say a thing.”

She’s right, as usual. And I’m occasionally capable of that…sometimes, some of the time, every now and then, not very often at all.

And not so much these days.

I’ve been hearing a lot of “Happy Holidays” as I traverse the malls and stalls and stores of chores getting my shopping wrapped up, and I’m not a big fan of this PC salutation at all.

In fact, I may be offended by it. Let me think about for a second…Yep,  it offends me.

A holiday is when you’re given the day off by the government, or when the government shuts it down in remembrance of one of its own…pretty self-serving if you ask me.

(What, you didn’t ask me? Oh no…let me see if that changes my opinion. Hang on a sec…nope.)

This one coming up is the big one, the Father of all Holidays, I guess. It’s special and different, but not for the reason you might be thinking that I’m thinking.

It’s a day to give and receive.

To wake up happy and go to bed gloriously worn out.

It’s a day to spend with loved ones, travelling like idiots to get where we’re going, just to hang out and be together a bit.

It’s for the kids. To give them something wonderful and pure to believe in, on whatever level they place their wishes and hopes.

Some see a tree, some see a cross. Both of those include a guy with a beard…and a reason to be better than we are inclined to be.

I’m not sure what I see, it changes all the time…but I’ll tell you this:

It’s not “Happy Holidays.” We’re not wishing someone a pleasurable labor day for Christ’s sake. (That’s not the taking of the name in the vain, Mom. I capitalized it for both of you!)

We’re not telling them that we hope they smile a lot on the 4th of July, are we?

Nope.

And last night, as I watched Santa ride by on a Harley while I bought printer cartridges at Office Max, I told the cashier what I thought about it all, even though she didn’t ask… 

It’s called Christmas.