2007 Holiday—uh—Christmas Survival Guide for Slackers—uh—Cultural Warriors

Talented gift-givers put time and thought into selecting presents for their loved ones. Gift ideas for the ungifted.

This just in:

Congressional Democrats Authorize Additional $43.6 Billion to Fund War on Christmas
WASHINGTON: Secular humanists in Congress, led by Nancy Pelosi and Harry Reed (D-Godless), today approved an additional $43.6 billion dollars to fund the War on Christmas. Dismissing those who continue to observe the birth of Christ our Lord as “a few dead-enders,” Democrats promised to completely eradicate the age-old festival by 2008, and have proposed replacing it with Darwinukkah, a holiday celebrating the triumph of the profane over all that we hold sacrosanct…

At ease, cultural warriors. The last few weeks have been grueling for us all, as they are every December when the hordes of hedonists storm our spiritual gates. I see you down in the trenches, stalwartly resisting the encroachment of atheism, turning every utterance of “Happy Holidays” into another front in the larger battle. I recognize the sacrifices you’ve made to keep America focused like a laser on the reason for the season.

But in your tireless service to our cause, have you forgotten—or simply not found the time—to buy gifts for your loved ones? Sure they appreciate your ceaseless vigilance against those who seek to undermine the very foundations of our civilization, but I’m sure they wouldn’t say no to a salad spinner as well.

Well, fear not, solider. On the ninth day God created the World Wide Web specifically so that you could buy presents for your comrades-in-arms mere hours before you run out of little windows to open on your Advent calendar.

And so, we present our sixth annual Holiday Christmas Survival Guide for Slackers Cultural Warriors, showcasing the most miraculous items available for purchase on the internet. As always, everything listed is as real as sin, and—if you order now—guaranteed to arrive at your house by Christmas morning, assuming the package isn’t intercepted and destroyed by Christopher Hitchens.


Last week the sports world was rocked by the release of the Mitchell report, a 409-page document describing the epidemic of cheating and reliance on performance-enhancing supplements that has forever sullied our national pastime of RPS. Among the more shocking findings: One out of every five RPS players has, at some point, used the Electronic Rock, Paper & Scissors keychain. Just thrust the device at your opponent, press a button, and your randomly selected move appears on the screen. Perfect for the roshambo-lete in your life lacking nine of his fingers or the wherewithal to choose from a menu of three possible options.


“Pure gold passes straight through the body and ends up in your stool resulting in sparkly shit!” So says the description of Gold Capsules, available from the New Museum Store at the low, low price of $300. Or so they say—frankly I think this might just be some kind of conceptual art, like the “This Is Not A Pipe” painting and the Bush Presidency. And beside, if you have a friend who wants to ingest the most wonderful substance on earth, you could just buy him BaconSalt for a couple hundred bucks less. “Why would you have fries when you could have bacon fries??” asks Chuck H. on the BaconSalt testimonial page, a question so thoroughly bereft of correct answers that it practically qualifies as a (bay) koan. Hell, I say we kick gold off the periodic chart altogether and replace it with Bn, with an atomic weight of yum.


I recently saw a guy wearing a T-shirt that read “I Have Piercing in Places You Can’t Even Imagine.” Aside from being a transparent attempt to get me to visualize his wang (mission accomplished, alas), it also perfectly illustrated the problem with so many of these modern cachet-bestowing accoutrements: They only work when people can see them. Get a lower-back tattoo and you also have to invest in too-short blouses that ride up every time you lean forward. Get your spleen pierced and you have to buy a T-shirt announcing the fact. And what’s your friend to do on those rare occasions when his iPhone is his pocket, sequestered away from the admiring public? Prattle on about it incessantly, that’s what—reminding you every 14 seconds about its 8GB flash drive and 2.0 megapixels camera and ability to decrease his average masturbation time by four minutes just by thinking about it. So why not do everyone a favor and buy him the iPhone armband? Where others wear their hearts on their sleeves, he can instead wear the hunk of electronics that pumps life-giving smugness throughout his body. It’s not the ideal solution, but will do until he can scrape together the money to have the Apple logo branded directly onto his forehead.


In my day, the presence of the word “educational” on a video game’s packaging was as ominous as “carob” in the ingredients of a candy bar. It almost always presaged some incredibly lame program called “Math Blaster!” or “Phonic Racer!” or “Super Rad Find Côte d’Ivoire on a Map Challenge!”, featuring the thinnest veneer of “game” lacquered over story problems, spelling bees, and demands that you use your Atari 2600 joystick to laboriously navigate a grid of letters and spell out the name of our 23rd president. Seeing as how my entire generation grew up to be morons, I guess the video game industry gave all that up as a lost battle, and are now sucking the joy out of video gaming with controllers that trick your child into exercising. Yes, what could make Halo 3 more engrossing than the need to constantly run on a treadmill to power it? Buy one for your child and he’s certain to get an invigorating workout, as he runs away from home as fast as possible to escape the parents who so clearly hate him.


Hey, here’s a thought. Why not buy pretty much anything sold at JFC, I don’t even know where to begin. The Braised Pork Cell Phone Charm? The Professional Laser Guided Precision Scissors? The Stainless Lighter With 4GB U.S.B Disk? The LED Light Illuminated Ear Pick? The Hamburger 12 CD Flannel Storage Bag? The Shock-Your-Friend Electrified Dummy Digital Camera? The Digital Buddhist Jukebox in Tibetan (5 Songs)? The TDR U.S.A. 16-inch Crossbow? The Whatever-the-Hell That Promotes Bowel Movement for Pets? I’m pretty sure this website is based in some alternate dimension where Lincoln used kung fu to disarm his assassin and now everything is AWESOME.


Now that every sentient vertebrate is a member of seven social networking websites or more, last-millisecond gift-giving has become a whole lot easier. So this holiday season, show someone you care enough to click a button by giving them a bunch of colored pixels from the Facebook gift shop. Here’s how it works: you pay a dollar, and the lucky recipient gets a gif of lower quality than the clipart that came bundled with Microsoft Bob, which shows them what you would have bought them if you’d put any forethought whatsoever into this whole exchange-of-presents racket. In the unlikely event that you are not a member of that particular site (in defiance of the Facebook Conscription Act of 2006), why not burn a dollar bill and send the ashes to your loved one with a note reading “I made me $1 poorer 4 u.” Same basic idea.


I love those ads for erectile dysfunction medication that boast of the (temporal) length of the induced boner, assuring the consumer that we he will be good to go for 38 straight hours after ingestion, during which, it is implied, he will be enjoying nonstop intercourse. The reality, of course, if that the user’s chubby will be the old-age equivalent to the high-school condom, carried around more as a hopeful talisman than as something likely to get pressed into service, until one day, years later, it is thrown out after being discovered, tattered and frayed, in the back recesses of a wallet. (The condom, I mean.) I’d love to see a season of 24 where Jack Bauer drops some Enlongra in episode one and spends the remainder of the series frantically trying to get laid before the clock runs out. (“What about foreplay?” “Don’t you understand? WE’RE RUNNING OUT OF TIME!!”). Besides, you wouldn’t even need to resort to such drastic measure if you had a Viag-Ring. Featuring a tiny, clear-covered compartment reading “In case of emergency, break glass,” the wearer of the Viag-Ring need never worry about erectile dysfunction again, as it repels any and all potential sexual partners.


OK! Here it is! The Bumper Dumper! I put it on my list! Never email me this suggestion again, entire internet!


The Hillary Nutcracker! You know, like Hillary Clinton? And nuts? Which is a euphemism for testicles? And she cracks them? Meaning the testicles? Zing! Can you even believe it? It’s almost as if someone purposely made an item so stupid and sophomoric that people would give them free advertising in their year-end roundup of the most stupid and sophomoric gifts that you could… heyyy, wait a minute. I smell a hornswoggle.


Or take the War for Christmas to a whole next level with the JL421 Badonkadonk Land Cruiser/Tank. Available from for only $19,999.95 (plus $2 for gift wrap), the Badonkadonk—or “Callipygian Crusader,” as I like to call it—is perfect for rolling over your neighborhood elementary school’s “Winter Celebration” display, the local Unitarian Church, or Richard Dawkins. “In Case of Rapture Badonkadonk Will Be Unoccupied” bumper sticker sold separately.

Happy holi—I mean, Merry Christmas!