Santa shimmies down chimneys, Hiram Monserrate’s up the poop, and it’s holly by golly, deck the halls . . . jingle the bells . . . stick the partridge up its pear tree . . . ’Tis the season.
And to Gen. Petraeus, peace on Earth — good will toward broads.
Kiddies, mother is telling you: We’re talking Joyeux Noel. No nasties like Mitt Romney’s gone the way of the brontosaurus. No muttering that New Jersey’s Governor Chunky is being fattened for the slaughter of a future VP run . . . or out-of-breath walk.
Questions might be, what to buy Warren Buffett? It’s not easy having green. What games to play with Missouri’s stinky Republican congressjerk Todd Akin? Pin the Tail on the Ass? What’s Obama sending Boehner? Word is the House Speaker will open it when it stops ticking.
Per reliable authority, Congress may cancel this year’s re-enactment of the Nativity. Can’t find Three Wise Men.
I’m hearing Boehner sent Nancy Pelosi a skunk coat. She wondered how such a beautiful thing could come from such a foul-smelling animal. He replied: “Forget gratitude, but I would like a little respect.”
Those so-called Real Housewives of New York are staging a complete manger scene — in their cleavage.
Carolines Comedy Club’s Caroline Hirsch is suffused with good will. Her card says “May the holidays bring: a James Bond gadget that silences British boy bands, speed bumps for bike lanes, a senior’s discount on Rolling Stones tickets, Kevlar condoms for the Secret Service.”
Even famous people shop. When in the White House, Hillary gave her whole staff scarves, handmade goodies, clocks — all selected personally by the First Buyer herself. She’d sneak out and, wearing shades, roam The Gap. This year, maybe she’ll roam a hair salon.
Lousiest Dec. 25. Al Roker: “At 9, living on the ground floor of a Canarsie project, I had the measles. My father stood outside and jingled our tree’s bells for me. When I was half-conscious, he brought it in. Mom left homemade cookies for Santa and carrots for the reindeer outside the door. I still do it every Christmas Eve.”
Jane Pauley’s worst? “I was 14. We had no money. It seems petty, but I felt badly that things were really lean.”
Nathan Lane’s best? “At my actor friend Richard Thomas’ home with his whole family. It was wonderful. I was happy. He was happy. Everyone was happy. The following year he got divorced.”
Another best? Maybe the year Gwyneth got diamond studs from her beloveth.
Naomi Campbell once told me: “All I want is a man. Advertise for me. Please. I want a man.” She now has one. A rich Russian. The North Pole’s been good to Naomi.
Once I was in Nepal. Same Yak & Yeti restaurant that earlier fed Sally Jessy Raphael. My holiday dinner? Yak.
Martha Stewart: “To me, Yuletide means one word — “Bacon . . . bacon . . . bacon . . . ” So what’s she stick this bacon in? Glaring at me like I was nuts, she snapped: “Not bacon. Bakin.’ That’s what I’m doing the whole day — bakin’!” OK.
Forget Donder, Blitzen and elves on sleds, Primola’s p.r. man Jim Mitchell is off to Morocco. The Cuomos, with 13 grandchildren, mostly do Palm Beach. Penelope Cruz likes Madrid. “Many friends there.” Matt Damon, Boston. The family’s together every St. Nick Day. “Wouldn’t think of being anywhere else.” Ralph Fiennes: “Home. London. And know exactly what I’ll be doing. Opening presents — I hope.” Aidan Quinn: “Upstate. Following tradition. Every year my buddies and I hang together.” Dan Rather: Texas.
Billy Bob Thornton has been known to make handcrafted gifts. Who knows what? Maybe homespun clay pot crap or homemade peanut brittle.
And visitors will clog our streets. New York’s all dressed up in its holiday finery. The tree. The snowflake. The Santas. The stores. The Plaza’s fountain. The skating rink. The city’s as enticing as Anne Hathaway’s wardrobe malfunction.
Where else would anyone want to be this time of year? Miami? Santa in shorts? Reindeer in Speedos? Maybe Tulsa? Where buffalo roam and tourists don’t? How about Murfreesboro, Ark., where the hills are alive with the sound of nothing.
Hey, we got Radio City. Fargo’s got a gymnasium. We got the UN. Muskogee’s got a pool hall. This town’s got museums. Madison County’s got bridges. New York State’s got Miss Liberty. Wisconsin’s got Paul Ryan. Where else would foreigners spend the holiday? Missouri? To watch what? Haircuts? Shop in their hometown 7-Elevens? A six-pack of Bud is always a thrill under a tree. They got the Diamond Center in Montana? Montana, they got dung. May they buy their next year’s wardrobe at Bowling for Blouses.
Anyone doesn’t get a thrill out of shopping and sightseeing the greatest city on Earth, where Mayor Bloomberg’s making us all look like Calista Flockhart — let them stay home in Mississippi, where “foreign” means Biloxi.