So the holidays are almost on top of us, making this a festive time. Over the past several weeks, I’ve regaled you with tales of rejection, rewrites, and flying too close to the sun. Not the most festive topics, unless you’re sitting down to a homey Manson Family Christmas.

If so, don’t touch the eggnog.

But if not, and I hope not, let’s talk about what the holidays really mean. Let’s look past the tinsel and the trimmings, the menorahs and the lights, and talk straight. We’re adults, except for those of us who aren’t, but even then, we can take it.

I am not here to sugar coat anything, okay?

There are questions that need to be answered.

What is up with that green bean and mushroom and cream casserole? Was somebody drunk or did they lose a bet? I mean, seriously, in what universe did someone think that was a good idea?

“Bill, Bill, I have all these green beans left over from the harvest…”

“The French-cut ones?”

“Yeah. And come to think of it, why do the French have a special way to cut green beans, Bill?”

“Tangential point, Steve. You may as well ask why they have a special way to fry onions.”

“Now that you mention it…”

“Questions for another blog.”

“Right. Okay, let’s talk about my idea for the green beans.”

“Boil them with bacon?”

“Better. Cream of mushroom soup.”

“Are you high, or what?”

Fast forward to today, and it’s freakin’ everywhere. You can even find it pre-made in most stores. I weep for humanity.

And while we’re on the subject of bad ideas, tell me you aren’t still leaving out milk and cookies for Santa. The man is morbidly obese. A stroke waiting to happen. Pretty soon the elves are gonna have to lower him down the chimney with a winch because you can’t climb with Type 2 diabetes.

Leave him celery. Carrot sticks. Maybe a gym membership. Otherwise, generations of children yet to come will be weeping come Christmas morning, because there’s nothing beneath the tree but spider webs and frayed electrical cords. ‘Cause grandma and grandpa killed St. Nick.

Meaning Rudolf’s only good for being a red-nosed main course of venison. On Dasher and all that.

Imagine a future without department stores full of ornaments and twinkly lights the moment the Back to School sales are over. Whatever will we do with all that nostalgic but useless muzak? People will have to talk to each other in restaurants again.

And it’s all your fault.

That’s right, it’s on you. The entire landscape of the season.

Happy Holidays.