Let’s cut out the holiday lettuce—the peace on Earth, be kind to each other, family and togetherness nonsense—and get to the real meat of the season.
Here in America, where the ultimate goal is to gorge ourselves with as much consumption as humanly possible, Christmas is—and always has been—about one thing: the present.
While we’re taught not to say it aloud and to be grateful for any gift we receive—the whole “it’s the thought that counts” crap—we learn the score from a young age, and we also learn that some years will prove more bountiful than others.
For example, one year Santa Claus brought me my first Nintendo Entertainment System, and I had to be pried away from “Super Mario Bros” on Christmas morning to lamentably spend time with my family, where I would receive more—but certainly inferior—presents.
Hang on. I’m becoming misty with nostalgia.
As we get older, however, the quantity of presents we receive decreases, and the focus shifts to winning the adult competitions. What I’m talking about here is the most cut-throat of Christmas gift-giving contests, the season’s version of Russian Roulette, a place where sinister strategy meets shit luck.
I’m talking about the Yankee Swap.
For those unfamiliar with the rules, here’s the gist of it, although there is always room to add idiosyncratic twists.
Everyone participating brings a wrapped gift. Most of the time, people will bring gag gifts, or white elephants. All of the gifts are placed under the tree with some presents that have real value, such as a bottle of a decent bourbon or, say, a handle of Grey Goose vodka.
Everyone then draws a number, and the person with the highest (or lowest) number gets to choose from all of the presents and pick the best one for themselves. Selfishness ensues, feelings are hurt, and it’s wonderful to watch grown adults act like little brats.
‘Tis the season.
Last Saturday, I attended a Christmas party where there was a Yankee Swap and copious alcohol—a toxic combination. My wife and I brought a joint gift, a white elephant that included a couple of scratch tickets and two books by this local hack named Nate Graziano.
We drew a number in the middle of the pack, but ended up with a pretty good pull—a bucket of Fireball shots. But that’s not how I won the Yankee Swap and, ultimately, Christmas this year.
Our friend Kim had the second-highest number and went for broke, taking a beautiful handle of Grey Goose vodka. But the person behind her crushed her hopes and her heart in their hand, took the vodka and exchanged it for the gift that she brought to the swap.
This is how I ended up with Pickolas Cage.
Kim had no interest in taking back the gift that she brought, which included some ornaments for a Christmas tree. And among said ornaments was Pickolas.
Pickolas is a plastic pickle ornament with the face of the actor Nicolas Cage, and it is simply stunning. While the other people participating in the Yankee Swap may not want to admit it to themselves, I went home with Pickolas Cage—who now hangs proudly on our tree—and I won the Yankee Swap and Christmas.
And in the words of Tiny Tim Cratchit, and from both Pickolas and me: “A Merry Christmas to us all; God bless us, every one!”
