Let me caution you, good people, before you pick up your Sunday edition of The Baltimore Sun, of what lies awaiting you on Page 2 of the Business & Jobs section.
It is, I write to the accompaniment of grinding molars and muttered imprecations (You try to grind and mutter at the same time), a graphic illustrating the price tag of “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”
In my paper. My public fulminations notwithstanding
In a properly run state, the originator of this article would have been hanged, cut down alive, disemboweled and his bowels displayed to him, his body cut into four pieces, and his head detached and displayed on a pike in a public place as a reminder to others not to do likewise.
I fear that nothing short of the fear of being drawn and quartered can halt the annual infliction of this asinine claptrap on a public already dazed by cliche-ridden holiday twaddle. We’re just going to have to tough this one out.