Growing up With Lead Tinsel

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The Christmas season at our house was filled with it’s share of unique rituals. During the fifties, Christmas waited until Thanksgiving was over and then after that, the local Five & Dime store began to stock up on brightly colored sequins, glass tubes of glitter, styrofoam balls, velvet ribbons, Christmas tins and candies. Our dining room would then magically transform into a satellite of Santa’s workshop and a hub of creativity. Ornaments, Christmas cards, gingerbread house plans and platters of sugar cookies waiting to be decorated would consume every inch of the large oval table and for several days force our family to eat on tray tables in front of the TV, a real bonus for us five kid’s.

Mom’s rituals included purchasing a new Christmas apron, like my favorite, the see-through one with the reindeer pockets and dangly red pom- pom’s hanging from it’s zigzagged lower edge. It was a time when Mom began to increase her time spent behind closed doors to finish the Christmas sweaters she was making for me and my siblings, to wrap the stocking stuffers she had been collecting throughout the year, and to hide her carefully chosen Christmas presents in her closet. Mom’s rituals reached a frenzied peak when she would address us all while armed with a brand new ping pong paddle, (a plentiful item at the Five & Dime during the Christmas season) …minus the attached little red rubber ball, and give us all a stern warning to not go anywhere near her bedroom closet. In those days, visions of a paddling on a bare bum usually outweighed any of those storied visions of sugar plum fairies.

Dad worked in the basement and put the finishing touches on the wooden dollhouse, toy train or revitalized sled, got out the movie camera and its bar of seven gigantic lights to make sure they were in working order (the same lights that would make us all squint, tear up and make funny faces), and made the repeated dusty journey to the attic for the stored cardboard boxes containing our collection of Christmas decorations. We could easily tell when Dad’s rituals had reached their frenzied peak when his covert trips to the refrigerator to take sips of his “tainted” egg nog became much more frequent.

For us kid’s, the highlight of the Christmas rituals was picking out the tree and decorating it. The Christmas tree’s we purchased were never perfect and there was always that “hole” that needed to be directed toward the wall, like some disobedient child. After positioning the tree to everyone’s liking, my father would then begin to hum, the signal that he was ready to untangle the many strings of red, blue, green, yellow and white ‘large’ Christmas bulbs and clip them to the tree. Next, ruffles of red foil garland were swagged and then the Christmas angel took her prominent position at the very top. It was now our turn to dig into the boxes of ornaments and remember to hang the “unbreakable’s” on the bottom branches to make them black Labrador Retriever “tail proof.” Years worth of memories were hung and on display for all to enjoy; prompting grins, laughter and nostalgic sighs. Then with great aplomb and fanfare, my father dealt us each a box of tinsel, the treasured tinsel, the tinsel we were instructed to not just “throw on.” Slowly and deliberately, each long silvery strand was carefully draped so that every bough was covered in glistening, gaudy delight. It was a sight to behold, a radiant reflection of colors that sparkled and swayed with every movement we made. It was a bedecked, icy tree, a snow queen, that showered a supernatural-like glow over the nativity scene that had been placed on the snow blanket below.

Growing up with lead tinsel was special. During the fifties, tinsel, which emanates from the French word ‘estincele’ meaning “sparkle” was made from lead foil, a substance that had the perfect weight and shininess to allow the tinsel to dramatically drape and shine. However, in the sixties, our Grinch-like government stepped in and declared lead tinsel a possible health risk to children. Although never proven, convinced manufacturers and importers voluntarily stopped producing the product. Bah Humbug. Now, our children are subjected to tinsel made from polyvinyl chloride coated with a metallic finish that neither hangs well nor reflects a clear light. Pure junk.

I never ate the lead tinsel because the superb public schools in the fifties taught us to think for ourselves and not be stupid. Let’s bring back lead- based tinsel and get rid of our socialist, nanny government instead. The possibility of Capitol Hill poisoning us with their Grinch-like legislation poses a far greater risk to Americans than the potential poisoning from lead tinsel. Just ask Poisoner-In Chief, Barack Hussein Obama.


Woodstock D.C. Hippie Nirvana


Woodstock D.C., Hippie Nirvana

Woodstock D.C., Hippie Nirvana

If you look back to the sixties and early seventies, there is a lot to be learned about our current “groovy” leaders and their warped ideology. It was an era that shaped the Baby Boomer generation and became known as the Age of Aquarius, the New Age movement of great enlightenment, when the number one hit of 1969 was Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In by the Fifth Dimension. The lyrics speak of harmony and understanding, drug induced mystic revelations and the mind’s true liberations. This dawn of a new drug culture and sexual revolution was the same time America began to be raped of it’s innocence and of God’s law and order.

The World War II generation had survived a depression and war and celebrated their good fortune by working hard to get ahead to provide their families with the material pleasures of life and a promising future. They moved into neighborhoods that offered better school systems and sent their children to colleges and universities, a first for many families. It was also a time in history when parenting was dealt a big blow and common sense was carelessly thrown into the diaper pail along with the dirty diapers.

In 1946, Yale trained, Dr. Benjamin Spock, published the book,“Common Sense of Baby and Child Care” that would become the bible of child care for the Baby Boomer generation. Spock broke with tradition and favored indulgent love and affection over strict discipline and routine. Sigmund Freud, the eminent early psychologist who opined that human behavior is largely the product of unconscious sexual drives determined by childhood experience, inspired Spock to theorize that repression of odd behavior should be overlooked.

In addition to the convoluted conjecture of Spock, existentialism became a significant philosophical viewpoint as well. Two French writers, Jean-Paul Sartre and Albert Camus, wrote about individual consciousness and the creation of  “oneself” that shunned both society and religion. Darwinism added to the oncoming tide of moral relativism and was used by creationists here in the United States who theorized that homo sapiens, or man, was simply another form of animal that evolved from apes, an atheistic naturalism. The cultural tsunami that ensued would begin the slow drowning death of America’s Judeo-Christian culture. It is interesting to note that later in life, Spock came to the realization that the major reason for most of the serious social problems in the United States today could be traced back to the weakening of the influence of religion and an increasing secular society.

Twenty years later, the Baby Boomers would be unleashed onto society, ready to “create oneself,” thousands of undisciplined, spoiled, contemptuous, narcissistic, kid’s who after too much psychoanalysis and intellectually induced permissiveness, were primed to rebuke all aspects of authority, including God. 1968 was deemed the “Year of the Student,” with 7 million students enrolled in colleges and universities, and the mood on campuses was rebellious; sugar cubes laced with LSD was their comfort. There were violent confrontations between college students and law enforcement officers, and derogatory euphemisms such as “the fuzz” and “pig” began to be used against the police as their distrust of them widened.

On January 14, 1967, an event called the “Human Be-In” took place in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park, an introduction to the key ideas of the Baby Boomer counterculture; personal empowerment, sexual promiscuity, communal living, cultural decentralization, ecological awareness, higher consciousness, acceptance of illicit drug use and radical progressive political ideology. The event was a convergence of UC Berkeley radical militants protesting against the Viet Nam war, and the more pacifist, peace loving “flower children” of the nearby neighborhood of Haight-Ashbury. Many radical leaders spoke at the pivotal event, including Doctor Timothy Leary, a key promoter of his drug of choice, LSD, a mind altering, hallucinogenic, “acid.” His intellectually profound message to the crowd was “Turn on, tune in, drop out.”

That summer became known as “The Summer of Love” and Scott Mckenzie’s 1967 hit single, San Francisco was the harbinger of the times; “Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair if you come to San Francisco, summertime will be a love-in there.” Soon,100,000 “flower children” also known as hippies, descended upon the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood. Haight-Ashbury soon became a ghetto of bohemians who wanted to experiment with new ways of expression and awareness of one’s self, stemming from their frustration with both governmental and parental authority. Peaceful dissent turned into hallucinatory hell as LSD use became rampant. Acid parties, light shows, and drug induced orgies all led to a very dangerous and destructive psychedelic subculture. Spock parents who had been taught to become their children’s friends, joined in the free for all and began taking mood altering prescription drugs, characterized in the Rolling Stones song, Mothers Little Helper.

Acid and Psychedelic Rock music, began to unify and define the message of the hippie movement and it was to become the most revolutionary time in musical history. In 1964, the Beatles performed their number one hit single I Want to Hold Your Hand on the Ed Sullivan Show to an audience of 73 million people. As the drug culture took hold, so did their tunes. Pop music turned to Acid Rock and the Beatles began to write psychedelic songs that spoke of the times and the LSD experience. Fifty years later, John Lennon’s son Sean joined the modern day psychedelic surrealists, the “Flaming Lips” and paid tribute to the “Fab Four”  by singing their trippy rendition of Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds on the Dave Letterman show…and the beat goes on.

The media courted the youth counterculture with the breakdown of censorship in the motion picture industry and by opening up a plethora of pornography and previously prohibited subject matter. News coverage of the “Black Power” civil rights movement and graphic footage of the bloody reality of the Vietnam war fueled the fervor. Easy Rider in 1969, became a landmark counterculture film that depicted Wyatt, nicknamed Captain America (Peter Fonda) and Billy (Dennis Hopper) and their search for freedom while traveling on their motorcycles from commune to commune with a steady supply of drugs. In the end, Captain America prophetically said, “We blew it.”

Recreational sex became rampant, monogamy and marriage no longer important. Children were born to mothers who did not offer permanence and stability. It was an alternative society that lived in its own idealistic world, a utopia with boundless freedom. Despite the warnings, unsupervised “hippie trips” led to psychosis and demon filled dreams. The Bay area of California became a hotbed of evil. George Harrison began to liken hippies to filthy degenerates and focused on the spiritual through Transcendental Meditation and cosmic consciousness. Other forms of spirituality, including voodoo and witchcraft were explored and the Chicago author of “Satan’s bible,” musician and founder of the Church of Satan, Anton LaVey, performed Satanic baptisms and Satanic funerals. Dangerous cults erupted, the most famous being led by Charles Manson, a career criminal who preyed on the rich and famous and whose cult, the Manson family, eventually murdered eight-and-a half month pregnant actress Sharon Tate and four others on August 9, 1969.

The hippie movement came to its peak when more than half a million people gathered peacefully in Bethel, New York on August 15-18,1969 for the Woodstock Festival, three days of music that included 32 acts. Although she did not attend the event, Joni Mitchell penned a song about Woodstock that later became a major hit for Crosby, Stills, Nash &Young. Attendees came to be known as Woodstock Nation, now a catchphrase for the counterculture of the era.

Woodstock Nation imploded four months later in California on December 6, 1969 when the Altamont Speedway Free Festival, known as Woodstock West, erupted in violence as the Rolling Stones performed their demonically charged Sympathy for the Devil at nightfall. Murders, births, deaths from drugs, injuries, stolen cars and property damage brought the concert to its shortened conclusion.

The flower children wilted and many began to concentrate on planting their pagan radical seeds into “The Green Agenda” movement, such as Agenda 21, aimed at globalizing the United States environmental issues. Today, Woodstock, D.C., is full of Boomer’s who have the “New Age” counterculture spirit ingrained in their souls. They are the same, over-educated, existentialist hippies who refused to accept God as their authority. Their perceptions of how individuals should live their lives are still based on their own narcissistic psychosis and spiritual hollowness. The EPA, FDA, NSA, TSA, DOJ, DEA, DHS, DOD, FAA, FDA, HUD, IRS, are their ball and chains, federal agencies set up to enslave the American people in order to advance their  “utopia” and New World Order. Their chain is now beginning to  tighten around the necks of our children with the implementation of Common Core in our school systems and the decriminalization and legalization of marijuana. Pot not only lowers the IQ of young people permanently, but a drugged child is easy to manipulate and subdue, manna for despots. Teach Your Children by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young speaks of the continuing generational agenda to live by the “code” of a global community and to have your children abide by the liberal rules.

The current manufactured intelligence of most politicians in Woodstock, D.C. stems from the illusion to “create oneself.” The choice to assume the responsibilities that come with defending and protecting America’s freedoms have been ditched in favor of a more enjoyable, selfish and self-satisfying path to greed and power. Their blind desire refuses to acknowledge or answer to a higher moral authority, to obey God and his rules. Instead, groupie enablers foolishly continue to seek alternative enlightenment and sheepishly follow Messianic want-to-be’s who are led by pollsters and the political wind. The patched photo on the header of this post is just one patch in the giant quilt of progressive secularism that is determined to fragment Christendom and lead America to atheistic totalitarianism. “For although they knew God, they neither glorified him as God nor gave thanks to him, but their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened.” (Roman 1:21)

Christians must unite and fight this war between darkness and light. When the Constitution was adopted, “We the People” agreed to be governed, not ruled by evil authority.  “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. (Ephesians 6:12)

“Let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven” (Matthew 5:16)….  or …. Imagine what will happen.






Community Organizers, the Bullies of the Neighborhood

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The old familiar door creaked a bit every time it was opened, a sign of it’s use and age. It was the entry to a brown clapboard neighborhood grocery store, Paul’s Market, that had flourished for half a century, even though almost hidden and nondescript between the brown clapboard middle class homes that surrounded it. At one time it was called Frank’s Market, but then Paul bought it and his name was not Frank, so it was renamed Paul’s. The neighbors did not need a neon sign or elaborately decorated window to know that it sold all the foodstuff they would need to satisfy their daily meal planning. Upon entering the compact store, my mother would be standing at a small steel cash register, her sparkling blue eyes ready to greet everyone who entered with a warm smile and hello. She would then wipe the flour sack apron that was tied around her waist and suggest that some chuck roast had just been ground and two pounds would make enough Swedish meatballs to feed and delight their entire family. The customer would perk up, happy their meal worries were over and say that sounded great! My mother, proud of her salesmanship abilities, would then proceed to write down the recipe for them onto a brown paper bag…the one that would soon hold two pounds of ground chuck. Then, with a wink, my mother would suggest that a can of corn, mashed potato and fresh green beans would go very nicely with it.

As the customer got to the very back of the store, Paul, my father, would suddenly poke his head out the open doorway, beckoning them to the fresh meat and seafood department, a  narrow back room that consisted of a walk-in refrigerator and a three inch thick butcher block table that spanned the entire length of the wall. Perched on the end of the table was a large stainless steel meat grinder and tucked underneath the counter was a small stool, so that when asked, I could help grind up some hamburg for that day. I loved putting a hunk of meat into the funnel shaped opening at the top and watch as the meat came out the bottom chute, like big blood red strands of wiggling spaghetti. It was much more fun than my other job, restocking the shelves. Extra cans of everything were in the basement below, down a set of rickety stairs, and the dark gloominess seemed a mile away from the cheery atmosphere above.

My favorite job at Paul’s, was delivering groceries. The surrounding neighborhood was a beehive of humanity and Paul’s was the cohesive honeycomb, the sweetest spot in town, where everyone gathered and shared the day’s news, at a time when the internet did not exist and communication was still done the old fashioned way, by word of mouth. I listened in on many a conversation and learned that what was being whispered was not said in a gossipy way, but rather in a helpful way to quickly learn of the latest “goings on” in town. Paul’s became a place to mourn someone’s death, celebrate a birth or even just have some friendly chatter when feeling alone and out of sorts. My goodhearted parents were great listeners and always there when someone was sick and needed help. They would be the first to call old Mrs. So and So who had just fallen to see if she might need some groceries hand delivered to her front door step. That is when my ears would perk up because I knew that hand delivering meant I would soon be out the door armed with bulging brown paper bags filled with food items that were desperately needed right away. I was used to walking everywhere; school, church, the library and the doctor, never needing to worry about gaining weight from mom’s Swedish meatballs with mashed potatoes, and enjoyed the walk almost as much as the greeting I would receive once arriving at the recipients house. They were considerate deliveries and my errands would always be rewarded with grateful hugs. While walking back to the store, I always felt happy that I had been able to help, in my own special way, a person in need. That feeling of contentment lingered for the rest of the day and prompted a smile on my lips at the most unexpected times. Perhaps that was my first brush with learning that unselfish deeds were so selfishly rewarding and that caring neighbors offered the palpable love that kept our town’s heart ticking, alive and well.

In stark contrast to community caring and love, Saul Alinsky, a Marxist from Chicago, created a much different model for community life, a concept he coined “community organizing” a clever euphemism for community communism.  Alinsky, who wrote “Rules for Radicals,” and dedicated his book to his favorite radical, the devil, did not focus on transfusing good back into the community, but rather focused on sucking it dry of all its underlying goodness, hope and promising future, a future called the “American Dream.”  His communist model instead relished the “redistribution of wealth” or in layman’s terms, the taking of wealth from the hardworking middle class and giving it to the lazy, government dependent, underclass. He became the master puppeteer who trained his community operatives  how to pull the strings of jealousy, race, and class warfare in order to obtain his nefarious quest for power. Barack Obama, who was hustled back and forth from Africa to America during his childhood, was never part of a functional family or community. His high school days in Hawaii were spent experimenting with drugs, not neighborly love, therefore, the Marxist, Alinsky model played right into his greedy hands; to him, community organizing was fair game in an America that he had never bonded with and the fast track tool to help him achieve his political ambitions.

Are America’s neighborhood’s any better off now under Obama’s, agnostic “social justice” programs and community organizing? That question can only be answered in truth by our neighbors. My neighbors are moving after losing their homes, trying to find low rental apartments or moving in with family; my neighbors are buying whatever is on sale at the supermarket and making their short grocery list last a week; my neighbors are no longer going on weekend getaways or vacations because they can no longer afford the gas; my neighbors are losing their health insurance and good doctor’s, wondering how they will be able to afford the new insurance tax being levied upon them; my neighbors are losing their full time jobs because their employers cannot afford the new “affordable” Obamacare; my neighbors are being audited by the IRS because they are active conservatives; my neighbors are veterans who proudly served our country and are now watching as their benefits are being diminished and used as political bait; my neighbors now have to think twice before hanging the American flag or displaying a cross in front of their own homes for fear of reprisal and fines; my neighbors are watching as America’s sovereignty is slowly slipping away and being handed to the United Nations; my neighbors are being spied upon at every street corner and traffic light; my neighbors are stocking up on supplies, waiting for the next false flag event or manufactured “crisis”; my neighbors are buying guns and ammunition because they no longer trust our tyrannical government.

Who will get us out of this mess? Can we trust and depend on bullying community organizers or slumlord-like bureaucrats who are blind to the needs of “We The People?”  The answer can be found in our neighborhoods. My neighbors are tithing their very sparse spending money at their local churches so as to help the most needy among us. My neighbors are making sure that the family whose home burned down last week has a place to live. My neighbors are volunteering to work in the food banks and soup kitchen’s to feed an ever increasing poor population. My neighbors are busy knitting scarves and hats for those who cannot afford the basic necessities of a cold winter. My neighbors are risking their lives and serving in the military to help keep us free, in spite of a Commander-in-Chief who has injected the Pentagon with the enemy. My neighbors are standing in front of Planned Parenthood clinics, praying that our government puts an end to its purging of God and the abortive murder and stealing of America’s future.

2014 will be a banner year for the righteous transformation of America and my good neighbors are the heroes who will make that happen.

“Righteousness exalts a nation, but sin is a disgrace to any people” Proverbs 14:34








The Naughty List Just Keeps on Growing….

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There are many government officials going on the naughty list this year. It is one thing to be a far left, country destroying progressive, but quite another to be an out and out liar. Washington D.C. now leads the nation for Santa’s “most naughty people in one place on the planet” and our nation’s capitol is now his least favorite stop on Christmas eve. The only saving grace is that the National Mall is a great grazing ground for Rudolph and the reindeer to rest and defecate because the air in D.C. is so “ripe” that no one seems to take much notice of their much needed bathroom break.

This year, Santa’s manager at the North Pole has taken an inventory of all the toys needed for this years sleigh ride and noticed there were a few aberrations in the 2013 line up. A disgruntled rogue elf decided to add to Santa’s sack a politically correct baby doll created by Fisher- Price, called the “Little Mommy Real Loving Baby Cuddle and Coo” doll whose baby gibberish includes “Islam is the Light.” Santa is not happy, so he has ordered all those dolls to be shipped “special delivery” to Gitmo where the terrorists there can feel the love and “cuddle and coo” along with the Muslim baby dolls. The “Politically Correct Holiday Stories for an Enlightened Yuletide Season” have also been scrapped. Santa cannot figure out how Christmas can ever have Christ taken out of it for the sake of political correctness! In addition, the “Non-Violent, Politically Correct War Card Game” has also been removed from Santa’s inventory.  Santa in his wisdom knows that war can never be non-violent, therefore, he believes this game to be too deceiving for little children.

On the other hand, there are some toys that are perpetual hits and will remain on Santa’s popular toy list for a few more seasons. One of the most popular is the Hillary “nutcracker” a very colorful rendition of a pants wearing Hillary who enjoys cracking nuts between her legs, and the Bill Clinton 1998 “Fondle Me Bubba Talking Stuffed Doll.” Newer items that Santa feels will be added to his  “Most Popular Gifts”  this year will be the “Farting Pootin’ Tootin’ President Obama Doll, which when pulling his finger, lets out a “toot” while insulting his Republican adversaries. Also deemed to become popular is the Obama punching bag and, brand new from Santa’s own creative work shop, a jumbo sized umbrella imprinted with two stately Marines in full dress. Santa wants the general populace who watched our Commander-in-chief order two Marines to hold umbrella’s over him to shield him from misty conditions, to also be protected from big bad rain drops by a couple of stately Marines. Finally, U.S. flag t-shirts, even though banned from most public schools in America, are enjoying a resurgence as the hot new collectible from a bygone era when children could freely wear and show off their patriotic pride while saying the Pledge of Allegiance before beginning classes.

To add to Santa’s worries this year, Santa was especially dismayed to find out that East Point Academy elementary school in Cayce, South Carolina has been forced to cancel their charitable “Operation Christmas Child.” Under the program, students collect toys, pencils and other small items, pack them into shoe boxes and donate them to needy children. This project was stopped by the “American Humanist Association” whose principles include the separation of church and state and they point to the fact that the charity is part of “Samaritan’s Purse” an international Christian based organization led by Franklin Graham, son of Evangelist, Billy Graham. Although the school’s principle, Renee Mathews says that “There’s no religious literature tied with it, no speakers who come, not religious affiliation at all” the outside group has claimed victory in stopping the generous project. Santa is annoyed that the children who attend that school will get the wrong impression that Christ has no place in their charitable giving, even though their charitable acts are based on God’s principles and his Ten Commandments!

Meanwhile, over in Europe, Santa has another set of growing problems. German cities have adopted a ban on the use of Christian symbols in the public celebration of Christmas. In Berlin’s Kreuzberg, Christmas is only allowed in the home, so that the religious feelings of others are not injured. A Christmas tree may only be set up in a central location, allocated by the authorities in advance. Berlin’s traditional Christmas market this year only received approval after the event was renamed “Winterfest.” Santa feels that if it were a well intended, truly multicultural agenda, then all faith’s would be permitted to celebrate their religious holiday’s, with a priority given to the country’s predominant Judeo-Christian culture! “Bah Humbug in Berlin!” declares Santa!

Meanwhile, back in the States, homeowners in an Orange County, California neighborhood have been ordered to remove their outdoor Christmas lights because the decorations are an obstruction and violate county code ordinances. For the past five years neighbors have gone all-out for Christmas and their display draws visitors from across the entire region. Santa plans on giving the resident’s there an extra dose of Yuletide spirit to fight the County Grinch’s who are responsible for this colossal Christmas faux pas.

Fortunately for Santa, he recently received word that “The Tennessee Valley Authority” (TVA) will be closing eight, coal-fired power plants, one of the country’s five biggest users of coal for electricity, generating 3,300 megawatts of electricity. The plants set for closure include 6 in Alabama and 2 in Kentucky. The EPA, led by the Sierra Club was at the forefront of the battle to get these plants closed and means tons of readily available, excess coal for naughty stockings, which is obviously much needed this year. It is kind of bittersweet, however, because many workers will be laid off as a result of the plant closures and Santa will have to work that much harder to bring toys to the needy children in that area for Christmas.

Yes, the naughty list keeps expanding as bureaucrats continue to lie, cheat and steal,  causing the number of impoverished family’s to steadily rise and increasing Santa’s work load exponentially. As Santa prepares for his lengthy trip, he asks that some stops along the way replace that customary glass of milk, with a bourbon Manhattan on the rocks with a shiny red cherry on top. Santa says he will need it this year.