Once again, I regret to say, we find ourselves deep in the season of the overworked Yuletide cliché. And what a bleak season it is this year. According to the Fourth Estate, ’tis the season for
- identity thieves
- gift card theft
- burglaries, thefts, and crimes
- charity imposters
- payment fraud
- package theft
- infectious disease
- deer-related crashes
- traffic jams
- and stress.
’Tis also the season to eat poorly, to avoid office party lawsuits, to lock your doors, to drive sober or get pulled over, to be driven mad by Christmas music, to disregard reason, and – alas – to be racist.
And also for this.
“Zom” is short for “zombie,” and yes, “zom-com” is a thing.
And for this.
Oh, and this.
I bet you didn’t know that cozy was potable.
And I also bet you didn’t know just how early the ’tis-the-season season starts. Mededitor spotted this ’tis on October 30.
Amateurs! I caught this one in August.
It turned out that the season for wildfires was tragically extended this year.
This message, from Everlane, popped up in my inbox on November 8.
My pal Andy Behr, lately of the San Francisco Chronicle, is a tireless ’tis-hunter. She forwarded the next four offenders to me.
An editorial headline in the December issue of Town and Country, where the line between editorial and advertising is, shall we say, wobbly.
'Tis the season to open your home to loved ones near and far? Fat chance. (Cross-promotional ad in the December issue of House Beautiful.)
And me? I saw this ad for Nectar mattresses on NewYorker.com, right above Susan Glasser’s December 5 story about George H.W. Bush’s funeral. If it was supposed to be a targeted ad, it missed.
“’Tis the season for napping.”
The Holiday Solidarity Toy Drive is sponsored by Moms United Against Violence and Incarceration. The link goes to an Amazon gift registry.
“’Tis the season for solidarity.”
Even though they’re missing a crucial apostrophe, these “’Tis the Season to Be Naughty” cards have the right up-yours spirit.
But nobody can out-’tis Effin Birds.
“’Tis the season to get your shit together.” $20 each, $5 of which goes to the Audubon Society.
For past collections of ’tis-the-season-shaming, start here.