Note: For the story of the dead turkey in the lower right corner, see the note in the previous cartoon.

Editorial

It was late on Christmas Eve, and I was about to have dinner. My thoughts had earlier in the day drifted off to my swami friend who lived atop a cold mountain top. I thought he might appreciate a little company on such a joyous occasion as Christmas, so I invited him over to dinner.

As we sat about eating (actually, I was the one eating--he was smoking his banana peels), there came a rustling on the roof.

"Hey!" I exclaimed as Saint Nick fell from the fireplace in a haze of black soot.

"Ho, ho, ho," Santa exclaimed as his belly shook like a bowl full of jelly.

"What gives you the right to be here?" the swami inquisitioned, apparently thinking he was the host here.

"Hey, man, I'm Santa Claus," the bearded fellow exclaimed. "I come here every year to give presents to all good newspaper editors. It is the spirit of Christmas and all."

The swami put down the banana peel in the ashtray and leaned back in his chair before replying. "What Christmas spirit? All I see is overpriced stock and underpayed consumers going into hock because they feel guilty if they don't buy something for everyone they know. Christmas is a pain in the neck without intruders tracking soot all over the nice clean carpet."

"Hey, fellows--don't fight!" I said.

Mr. Claus stepped in with, "You're that swami that was in Rick's editorial about Homecoming, aren't you? I read the Scroll! You're a pessimistic old coot, right?"

"I tell it like it is!" the guru said, trying to retain dignity in the face of this rosy-cheeked fat man.

"Listen, fella," Claus said, "Christ was born on Christmas, and He is saving humanity. He is God's son! That certainly is a time for rejoicing. Christmas is a time when men are of good will, when love rules the land, and disputes are put aside temporarily--"

"Temporarily! That's my point. Christmas is a facade: Christmas would be real if people behaved kindly through the year," the swami said. "People put themselves 'on' at Christmas. It's a time to look back on just the good points of the year and pat each other on the back for being so nice, even when people for the most part are not nice: they just aren't bad!"

"But the feeling of closeness, of happiness, can't be denied. Even from your point of view, you should see that some happiness is better than none at all. Christmas is a beginning for peace for all men for all time. People are basically good at heart, or they wouldn't have Christmas in the first place; can't you see that they are trying?"

"You sir, are nothing but a fictional character, created by the minds of people to fool children into believing falsehoods, and you are sustained by advertising managers who want people to buy merchandise from their clients. You don't exist."

There was a whiff of wind from out of the chimney, and the candles that had illuminated the room blew out. I fumbled in the darkness to find the matches and relight the wicks.

As light returned, I glanced around. Nobody was in the room save myself. There were no soot tracks on the carpet, and there were no banana peels in the ashtray. All I could find was a heart drawn in the white table cloth with lipstick. It was smeared as if someone had tried to rub it away.

I turned from the table; the food appeared gray. The candles extinguished themselves as a voice whispered in my ear, "All you need is love."

--Rick Hines