Monday, December 11, 2006


Whatever Pud was on, I didn’t want any.

“Last year I asked for a Fra Angelico,” he said, “something small and portable, you know, one of those little wood panel thingies.

“When the data entry elf typed F-R, the computer auto-filled FRUITCAKE and the stupid elf accepted it. I wonder, in the history of the universe, has anyone ever asked Santa for a fruitcake?

“So I got a goddamn fruitcake!

“We all know that the Donner party resorted to cannibalism when they got snowed in by an unrelenting Sierra winter. Less well known is that the group had a dozen fruitcakes that went uneaten. ‘Why?’ you ask.

“So, I returned it with a nasty note. And you know what I got instead? A bottle of goddamn Frangelico.

“This is the worst liqueur ever produced (unless you include Benedictine, which is sold in some coutries as an industrial solvent).

“Remember when poor Kitty Dukakis was hospitalized after relapsing with rubbing alcohol? She was so desperate that the rubbing alcohol looked potable.

“I have it on good authority that in the house at the time there were two bottles of Frangelico. A discriminating drinker, Kitty went for the rubbing alcohol.

“This year I asked for a Picot.

“I’m hoping for a pie.”

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