10 Christmas gifts to give before you die

Everything I need to know about Christmas I learned from the Muppets. Seriously. I recently saw the Brian Henson adaptation of Charles Dickens’ classic tale of “an old and bitter miser’s redemption on Christmas Eve” after being visited by three ghosts: a childlike specter, a forgetful troll and a grim unspeaking figure. I saw the movie years ago as someone young and green (no, not in the Kermit the Frog sense); I saw it recently as a totally different person — ironically as an old and bitter miser (yes, in the Ebenezer Scrooge sense). But despite the procession of years, the message of the Muppet movie remains constant and undiluted.

Shards of wisdom in that flick. Kermit muses, “Life is made up of meetings and partings.” You fall in love with one; you fall out of love with the other. The world does not stop turning.

On why we should doubt our senses, Scrooge explains, “Because a slight disorder of the stomach can make them cheat… undigested beef, a blob of mustard, a crumb of cheese.”

The Ghost of Christmas Past explains how things work: “These are the shadows of the past — they are what they are…” Past is prelude, so says everyone from T.S. Eliot to Joseph Campbell to the Great Gonzo. What we are now is the result of a process that takes place over time. Reinvention is for Madonna and David Bowie. For us mere mortals, it is just a matter of self-realization. Scrooge waxes optimistic: “A life can be made right.” All is not lost.

Finally, Rizzo the Rat philosophizes, “Mother always taught me, ‘Never eat singing food.’” And if you are a rat talking to a blue fuzzy creature calling himself “Charles Dickens,” that is self-explanatory.

So, that’s essence of The Muppet Christmas Carol, the season is all about giving, giving and more giving. Sooner or later, each of us will kick the bucket, meet the maker, shuffle off this mortal coil, run down the curtain and join the bleeding choir invisible (just like Monty Python’s dead parrot). Thus, during our lifetime, it is better to be a giver than a receiver. Not in the naughty sense, mind you. But wait, think of the herds upon herds of shoppers in the malls; the serpentine lines that go from the cashier or gift-wrap section down the escalators, outside the doors, up the flyovers and beyond the pale; the traffic, the lack of money, the Armageddon of it all. Think of the hassle. So here are some gift suggestions that are as warped, wooly, weird and as furry as those Muppets.

“No greater gift is there than love,” once sang Michael Jackson’s brother. Now that’s even spookier. Now, cue the carols courtesy of Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem.

Stuff. If you’re going to give CDs, DVDs, books or artworks, do not take the path of least resistance. Not a good idea to merely grab some album at MusicOne or Tower Records just because it has the word “Christmas” on it. For all you know it’s just some pop-star-of-the-moment singing carols done in a pseudo bossa nova style. Or some self-help book that spells success only for the wily person who damn wrote it (and never the poor readers). That’s why those books are labeled “self-help” in the first place. Slapdash abstracts that match one’s furniture are nothing but furniture. Try something off-the-beaten path. Maybe scour the miles of aisles of National Book Store, Powerbooks, A Different Bookstore, or Fully Booked and look for something that looks riveting. Books by Charles Bukowski and Jorge Luis Borges are agitating yet engaging. You also can’t go wrong with Alan Moore or Grant Morrison. As for CDs, try something that will rock the socks off the receiver. Go with the Guns N’ Roses CD that took forever to finish and gazillions of dollars spent in the process. (One journalist said it took longer to finish than the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.) I’ve gone through two long relationships before that album got its first pressing. Maybe it’s worth it, or maybe it’s as passé as the Estranged video. But at least it would make an exciting gift. In terms of DVDs, a little horror goes a long way. Lions Gate Films makes great gore-fests. For those dreaming of a Black Christmas, may your days be merry and Black.     

Before-you-die books. Movies to watch, books to read, paintings to see, places to go to before you join the ranks of dead parrots of pushers of daisies. The picks in these books are interesting. I don’t suggest you follow them to the letter, try cultivating your own literary preference. But as guidebooks, those titles are great. My only caveat with 1,001 Paintings You Must See Before Die is how author Stephen Farthing put his own painting as a must-see, overlooking great artists like Jonathan Meese and Daniel Richter. 

Cloak of invisibility. Harry Potter has one. Pluto has a cap that acts like one. More than just a fashion accessory, this piece of clothing will help you walk unnoticed past mulcting policemen, muggers and those bearing illegible letters trying to sell you dried mangoes. Think of the cloak’s benefits to Peeping Toms, or beautiful women trying to avoid loser Casanovas.

Bullsh*t detector. Once this gadget is switched on, it would be advisable not to watch shady politicians on TV. “I will not extend my term of office.” Ziiiiiiing. “I did not steal from the Filipino people.” Ziiiiiiing. “It only hurts when I pee.” Ziiiiiiing. It would be hilarious to watch; but then the realization would be terribly unbearable: the joke is on us.

Fountain of youth. Those who receive this gift would look remarkably young — without necessarily pickling themselves in formaldehyde like a Damien Hirst sculpture, or looking like Jonathan Pryce’s mom addicted to plastic surgery in the dystopian movie Brazil. 

Heart of the ocean. So you could ram it down Celine Dion’s throat if she attempts to sing My Heart Will Go On once again. 

The L-word. I know, I know it is an illusion. But love is the sweetest of all hallucinations. And, besides, it’s free. But not where the lights shine redly.

World peace. Beauty queens dream of this happening someday. Maybe, if we encourage world leaders to walk around in swimsuits, twirl a baton in the talent portion, and grappling with dopey questions, maybe, just maybe, there really would be world peace.    

You decide. Following my advice as to what to give this Christmas is like asking Bertrand Russell the sheet music for Come All Ye Faithful. Make those brains cells work wonders for you. Besides, I don’t know what your kabit would like.  

And a partridge in a pear tree. Why not string a pugo on the mango tree instead for local color? Even the Great Gonzo would approve.

As Fozziwig says, “I love these annual Christmas parties. I love ’em so much. I think we’ll do it twice a year!”