Even bigger gusts are coming from the latest tactic being used to rid the nation of any knowledge of God. Now the liberals have intimidated several large chain stores into not saying "Merry Christmas" during the Christmas season. To be politically correct, one is supposed to say "Happy Holidays" or some such meaningless thing.

They are not merely attacking Nativity scenes, either. They are actually going after Santa Claus as well. After turning Saint Nick into a secular symbol of consumer excess, they are now trying to banish him as well. This is a bit of a problem for a popular cola company which has been using him as a Christmas spokesperson for many years. They are thinking of using a polar bear instead.

I rather wonder how politically correct it is to use an animal associated with the North Pole side of the planet, Santa's official residence. Perhaps they should have gone with a jolly fat penguin instead. It would be hard to explain its seasonal glee given the ozone hole over the area, but its girth could be attributed to a healthful diet of fish . . . wait a minute, would that offend PETA and other animal lovers? It's not a particularly happy holiday for the fish, after all.

At least it wouldn't have to have red and green Christmas trappings, colors banned in some schools for that reason. Good old basic black and white . . . is that not ethnically diverse enough? Maybe it could be a Hispanic penguin from South America. Maybe it could have other ethnic penguins promoting the fight against global warming while dancing on a melting iceberg, frosty colas in one flipper and protest signs in the other. It makes as much sense as anything else going on in the yearly fight to ban Christ from His own birthday party.

This ought to pose an interesting dilemma for the politically correct advertising agencies. They are going to have to create religiously-neutral campaigns to include everyone's holiday except for Christmas even though the majority of shoppers are buying things for Christmas. Is there any cute or sexy symbol which isn't already associated with Christmas through the yearly campaigns to capture the children's attention and their parents' money for any new item sure to become an indispensable part of a merry . . . holiday?

Don't we all really know which holiday it traditionally is after all those years of commercial brainwashing about how we have to load our homes with garish decorations, unhealthy but oh-so-delicious foods, and every toy created to captivate children for two seconds before breaking with price tags high enough to stun any parent lucky enough to find one after searching dozens of stores? Some people may not go to church in December, but millions religiously go to the Christmas sales, both before and after Christmas.

My feeling on the whole flap? Merry Christmas! Jesus is coming soon!

Steve spotted the box full of new shoes and guessed that we got him a pair of Homer Simpson slippers, so Mom gave them to him early. He said that it was the stupidest thing we've ever done, but he did wear them for a while. They are soft and puffy like a fleece covered pillow. He is fussing about Mom having plenty of shoes already, but she is too pleased with the new ones to send them back.

She also got him a pair of reddish brown loafers. She got a pair with a leopard print and metallic stripes and a pair of blue loafers for herself. I got a pair of brown loafers and a pair of tan suede sneakers. Now that she knows how to order shoes on the internet, I suspect that more pairs will be coming to the door when the urge for fancy footwear strikes.

Mischief is not at all pleased with those slippers. He took one look and ran for his life. He doesn't seem to mind Homer on the television screen, but two Homers devouring Steve's feet are quite another matter. He and Rascal have been sleeping on my bed a lot lately. The cats get friendlier in the winter with enforced contact with us resulting in more consoling patting and feeding with turkey scraps. They'll turn back into the kings of the wild as soon as the night temperatures get warm enough for Mom to lose any guilty feelings about leaving them out rather than keeping them in to tear up her room.