Just in time for Christmas, heartwarming news has come from an acquaintance about his son. The lad has spent a lifetime dodging and weaving and gaming the system and, although perfectly healthy, has managed to make it to his late thirties without ever having worked a day in his life. But don't fret. Years ago he nestled comfortably inside the warmth and safety of the government womb, where an alphabet soup of federal and state agencies supply him with cash for all the marijuana, beer and cigarettes his heart desires. What he desired in this joyous season was a seven foot tall Christmas tree. Not artificial, mind you, which would be a one-time purchase and last for years. It simply HAD to be a real tree to count as a real Christmas tree.

So as you and your family cut corners, clip coupons, turn the heat down low, and worry about work and life and how you'll survive the impending total economic meltdown, take a moment to picture this magnificent seven foot tall tree, tinsel glistening in the lava lamplight while lazy puffs of pot smoke swirl around the Budweiser ornaments. After all, you paid for it. Merry Christmas everyone!