Wait! Don't eat it -- it's fake! You shouldn't be eating holly berries anyway, knucklehead. Unless you're a dog. A dog named Jack. He's already slobbered on a vintage decoration or two. He's so dumb, he's adorable, as my pal Harry Carbohydrate used to say.
Of course, when I say fake, I don't mean fake decorations. They're real decorations. They're real old decorations. Even the dust on them is old. That's an old smell, too. There are smells down here that died out fifty years ago. The basement's a museum of extinct Christmas aromas. And this is not a complaint.
This is a complaint: Entenmann's crumb cakes are getting smaller!
No, it smells terrifically festive down here (that's what she said) and it's not even Thanksgiving yet! Take a look around -- and it's still in a state of disarray:
Ah, On-A-Lite Christmas light strings! Do they even make things in Peoria anymore? (I'm sure they do. Sorry, Peoria!)
Gene Autry sings everyone's favorite Christmas carol, "The Three Little Dwarfs." Hardrock, Coco and Joe annoy the crap out of Santa's reindeer. I believe in the second verse, a felony is committed.
Guess who? Yep, you got it. It's quite uncanny, really, the resemblance. They're so friggin' excited for Christmas. "Eeeeeeee!"
Wait until Adam brings out the other ninety percent of the Eisenhower-era decorations! Someone's plastic Christmas Past is our Christmas Yet-to-Come!