The State of the American People:  Angry.  The Scott heard round the world demonstrates America rising.

Great video says it well:

Here we go again. Even before the Thanksgiving turkey made it through the leftover cycle, the now-annual, national Christmas squabble began.

Neighbors in a stew over a manger scene in somebody else’s front yard; call the ACLU. A store won’t call their evergreens Christmas trees; it makes the evening news. A company’s catalog says “holiday” instead of “Christmas”; a boycott is announced. Somebody get out the volume of Supreme Court rulings labeled, “Christmas,” so we’ll know which way the Christmas winds of justice are blowing this year; it’s all capricious nonsense. This bickering is downright sacrilegious.

Time to plan the little tykes’ holiday pageant; Santa is fine but Jesus is banned. Santa brings sugar-laden candy; call the AMA. Now that you mention it, he’s too fat; call Jenny Craig. Put the reindeer on hold and call the PETA; animals are people too. Santa says “ho”; cover the children’s little ears. Please, does it get any sillier than this?

We’re not really celebrating Christmas on the right day. Jesus wasn’t born in the winter. It’s mostly recycled pagan ritual anyway. They didn’t even celebrate Jesus’ birth until a couple of centuries after. The Church just co-opted a bunch of Roman stuff and made it conform to Christianity. Who really cares? A symbolic feast is a symbolic feast is a symbolic feast.

Christmas is too commercialized. It’s not commercialized in the right way. Don’t dare misappropriate our holy day for ghastly profits. Buy, buy, buy or the retailers and their families will suffer. How dare they put a Coca Cola in Santa’s hand? What, you prefer Pepsi?

My teacher said, “Merry Christmas”; I’m scarred for life. No red and green this year; it says “Christmas” loud and clear. No, it’s really a holdover from a way, way, way bygone year. Just another pagan thing, you know. Hang a wreath; don’t hang a wreath. Only a live evergreen will do. Artificial trees are more ecological. Get some mistletoe and kiss yourself.

Good gracious, who cares!

I’ve had it up to my neck with the squabbling, the nit-picking, the analyzing and every other little bit of scrooging and religiosity. None of this bickering comes across to me as even coming close to the joy-to-the-world Christmas that I believe God intends it to be.

I take my Catholic faith very seriously; it defines my life. But I’ve never been a form-over-substance person, so I can’t get all worked up over what appear to be insignificant details. And it seems to me that when we take our eyes off Christmas’ meaning and get caught up in the details instead, we hurt God much more than any societal slight ever could.

I think it just might be time we get down to brass tacks on the matter and ask ourselves simply:

Whose Christmas is it anyway?

Christmas, as defined by the Church, is supposed to celebrate God’s supreme gift to mankind for all generations, past, present and future. As Christians, we believe that Jesus, born in Bethlehem in the land of Judea, is the Messiah, foretold by the prophets.

And we believe, according to our sacred Scripture, that when he was born, an angel appeared to the shepherds guarding their flocks in the fields, and proclaimed: “Do not be afraid; for behold, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For today in the city of David a savior has been born for you who is Messiah and Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was a multitude of the heavenly host with the angel, praising God and saying:

“Glory to God in the highest! On earth peace, good will toward men.”

Luke 2:10-14 (New American Bible)

Just how we got from that idyllic scene of glory, peace, good will, good news and joy for all, to the current state of squabbling over every little detail, is a 2,000 year up, down, right, left, east, west and every which way story. But the bottom line is that Christmas belongs to God.

His idea. His Son. His angels. His manger. His gift.

Truth be told, if God were anything at all like Santa Claus, and he had asked us humans first what we wanted, most humans would probably have opted for a gift quite different than the babe in the manger who was supposed to hold the promise of internal soul-peace that surpasses understanding.

I don’t intend to give up a minute of that peace this Christmas paying any attention whatsoever to a single squabble. Everywhere I go, I’m going to share Christmas in a smile with everyone I encounter.

As for my husband, me and our house, we will shut the door tight this year against the cacophony of Christmas squabbling, and seek the peace of Christ in our own way.

We’ll hang the wreath on the door and not worry over whether a pagan ever did the same to honor some other made-up god with a wacky name. We’ll don the tree with the all-white lights, because to us, they most resemble the star of Bethlehem, and as we gaze magically upon them in our darkened living room by the fire, we will also be reminded that we know Jesus as the light of the world. We’ll hang our ornaments one by one, old and new, and talk about the year our little ones pulled the tree over and broke every single breakable object in sight. We’ll remember that Santa, to us, has always represented the spirit of sacrificial giving, and we’ll try to play the merry ole fat guy for each other. We’ll put up the dozen golden angels over the mantle, and spread our collection of crèches all over the house. We’ll spike our eggnog, roast our turkey, and enjoy our friends, both Christian and non-Christian alike.

We’ll rejoice in the freedom to worship our God in joy and song and dance, not only in sacred liturgy. We’ll try to rekindle warmth with our neighbors and look for any who might be alone or neglected. We’ll buy gifts for the children of strangers just for the happiness of the smiles we won’t even see.

We’ll stay up late for midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, and as our hearts are lifted to the heights of heaven on the majestic chords of the Gloria, we’ll imagine that we were there on that starlit night, and heard the angels sing. And we’ll know - yes, we’ll know - that nothing else matters one little bit.

“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight.”

Dear Readers,

A few weeks ago I noticed that Creators Syndicate, with whom I was under contract for a weekly column, was allowing its liberal columnists to use the homosexual slang, “tea baggers” and “tea bagging,” in clear reference to American citizens protesting unconstitutional overreach and out-of-control spending of taxpayers’ hard-earned money.  I lodged a formal complaint with the top editors and demanded that the practice stop.  I said that I would disengage with the Syndicate if the practice continued.

When the editors refused to even entertain a discussion on the merits of my complaint, and instead showed me the door, I apologized for my hastiness and tried to save the prestigious contract.  This is the thing which I, of course, regret.  Words either matter — or they don’t.  If they do not matter, then we are all clinging to a quickly sinking civilizational ship.

I am putting my final letter to Creators here in its entirety for my readers to judge.  I’ll still be around and I’ll still be writing from my own research, my gut and my lifetime of real-world experience.  I hope there will remain a few who’ll give me the time to consider my opinions.  Thank God and the USA for the internet!  Without it, thousands of valid voices would go silent.

Here is my concluding letter to Creators Syndicate:

Mr. Rick Newcomb, President
Creators Syndicate
5777 W. Century Blvd., Suite 700
Los Angeles, CA 90045

Dear Mr. Newcomb:

I respectfully accept your decision to release me from my contract with Creators Syndicate. I would appreciate your forwarding written confirmation of the release as soon as possible. My attorney has requested this so as to avoid any future involvement between myself and Creators.

Now that I have had time for reflection, I realize that my effort to reconcile with you after lodging my formal complaint was against both my conscience and my own best interests. The tantalizing lure of keeping the national-syndication prestige indeed got the momentary better of me. I was wrong to recant for asking you to prohibit the sexual slurs, “tea-bagger” and “tea-bagging,” from your published columns.

Not to worry, though, I’ve already gone to confession!

While I respect all of the people with whom I’ve worked at Creators, I stand by my belief that words do indeed matter a great deal and that, as a leader in the public discourse, you bear a burden of responsibility to both your subscribers and to your readers. Permitting the use of guttersnipe sexual slurring seems irresponsible and unbefitting an organization of Creators’ stature.

I have been reading newspapers for 50 years. I have never read a syndicated column anywhere in these United States - in all that time! — which made use of heterosexual slang in the way that the homosexual terms, “tea-bagger” and “tea-bagging,” are now being used in Creators columns to refer to American citizens, who are protesting profligate government spending and unconstitutional overreach.

Reputable authors certainly employ self-restraint regarding heterosexual epithets and it’s doubtful that columnists ever submit work to your editors, using words such as “cocksucker” or “pussy” or “dick-brain,” as clear references to political adversaries. If they did submit work with these types of sexual slurs, I do not - for even one minute - believe that your editors would give them a pass.

Hiding homosexual slurs behind the ignorance of a 95% heterosexual adult population is the kind of thing one would expect from middle-schoolers on an unsupervised playground. It is not acceptable behavior from presumably civilized adults.

In fact, it is the equivalent of a person shouting vile insults in English at a foreigner, while standing upon the assumption that the person being slimed doesn’t know the language and is therefore an easy target for unbridled scorn and ridicule. Such childish, contemptible behavior ought to, at the very least, have some sort of boundary. This is not, as your editor suggested, censorship. It’s just plain decency and ordinary common sense.

Now, perhaps my failure to produce the sales you anticipated, after a mere two months of syndication, was indeed the only reason you decided to release me so prematurely from my contract. The fact that your telephone call was timed immediately after my lodging this complaint, however, leaves me skeptical on that point. Speaking with other Creators columnists about the number of years they’ve written for you and the paltry numbers of sales they have, adds greatly to my skepticism. But you are a businessman of seemingly good judgment and have certainly acted within your rights in making the decision to release me. I have no quarrel whatsoever on that count.

I do sincerely hope, however, that you and your editorial board will seriously consider the nature of my complaint. As editors, and as ladies and gentlemen, you do have a responsibility to uphold decent standards of public civil discourse. In that, I believe, you are falling far short in your duty and if I failed to say so, I would not be abiding my own conscience. If one’s moral conscience does not supercede self-interest, then what’s a civilization for?

Now, that’s my two cents, honey, and I’m sticking to it. It was also my penance for trying to back down, and now I’m off the hook with the Big Guy, the only One I ever have to answer to.

Thank you for your attention. Please forward a written and unconditional contract release at your earliest convenience.

Sincerely yours,

Kyle-Anne Shiver
Independent — 100% Liberated — Author

If I were the parent or spouse of one of those killed in the terrorist attack at Fort Hood last week, I would begin raising utter hell in the public arena the minute my loved one was buried and my tears dried up. Not only did outrageous political correctness convince otherwise rational people in authority to put our soldiers in unnecessary danger, but since 1993, there has been a gun-ban in place on our army bases.

Here we have soldiers, expertly trained in the safe and efficient use of guns, yet they are prevented by a cockamamie Clinton ruling from carrying handguns on their bases. From reports of the Ft. Hood terrorist attack, the Islamic radical enemy within was allowed a full 10 minutes of completely protected firing at soldiers before someone with a gun arrived on the scene to fire back.

From the report on Fox News:

“Beginning in March 1993, under the Clinton administration, the army forbids military personnel from carrying their own personal firearms and mandates that “a credible and specific threat against [Department of the Army] personnel [exist] in that region” before military personnel “may be authorized to carry firearms for personal protection.” Indeed, most military bases have relatively few military police as they are in heavy demand to serve in Iraq and Afghanistan.

“The unarmed soldiers could do little more than cower as Major Nidal Malik Hasan stood on a desk and shot down into the cubicles in which his victims were trapped. Some behaved heroically, such as private first class Marquest Smith who repeatedly risked his life removing five soldiers and a civilian from the carnage. But, being unarmed, these soldiers were unable to stop Hasan’s attack.”

At this rate, we will be extremely fortunate to have men and women in the entire United States willing to sign up for military service. Not only should this horrendous terror attack never have happened because all the red flags were there, but it would also seem quite certain that the gun ban resulted in more inexcusable loss of life.

As the Fox News report says, statistics are pretty clear on the additional loss of life in public shootings where gun bans are in force:

“Research shows that allowing individuals to defend themselves dramatically reduces the rates of multiple victim public shootings. Even if attacks still occur, having civilians with permitted concealed handguns limits the damage. A major factor in determining how many people are harmed by these killers is the amount of time that elapses between when the attack starts and someone is able to arrive on the scene with a gun. Ten minutes must have seemed like an eternity to those trapped in the attack at Ft. Hood. All the multiple victim public shootings in the U.S. — in which more than three people have been killed — have all occurred in places where concealed handguns have been banned.”

Now, it’s not hard to understand that draft-dodging, war protester, Bill Clinton, thought this base gun ban was a good idea. But we might want to ask ourselves why on earth the ban was not lifted by President Bush immediately after 9/11. Intelligence and law enforcement agencies have been churning out reports and analyses of the homegrown terror threat for at least a decade and yet we remain a nation seemingly bent on national suicide.

This is disgusting.

Rarely do I give a flying flip about what the first lady wears.  I’m not that shallow or flighty.  I don’t read fashion magazines; I have a real life to live.  I don’t spend time with women who are so into such things they don’t have time for genuinely important things.  But when dressing for a memorial service, anyone over the age of 12 ought to know that discretion, respect and good manners call for wearing inconspicuous clothing, generally black.

The idea is twofold.  Black is the long-standing, across many cultures, color for expressing mourning and greif.  Second, the important statement one makes when choosing clothing for a memorial service — especially a national memorial for one’s fallen soldiers! –  is to be unobtrusive.  The important dressing quality for such an occasion is the express that YOU are not the center of attention and you wish to do all you can in dressing yourself to show your humility and not draw unnecessary attention to yourself.

So, have a look at Michelle Obama’s disgraceful, turquoise outfit worn at the national memorial for Veterans Day yesterday at Arlington Memorial Cemetary.  Ask yourself this:  when a woman has 23 attendants and assistants on the taxpayers’ payroll, and none apparently can tell her something this basic, what is wrong?  Michelle Obama is starting to resemble Imelda Marcos, and that can’t be a good sign.

What’s wrong with this picture?