"But dear ..." my wife tried once more.

"Hello? Cable Company? I want to lodge a most serious complaint."

"But we don't get cable out here," my wife broke in. "We have satellite TV."

"Oh."

"Look. There are some 395 channels, and at least 70% of them are airing Michael Jackson stories. Don't you think that's at least, oh, let's say, 70% overkill?" my wife asked.

"You don't understand. This is important. The whole world is watching. This man has changed face of music."

"Yes, that's what some of his celebrity colleagues are saying", my wife rolled her eyes. "As if people who change face of music have all been vaccinated against child-molesting."

"That's not point. There are so many details to uncover. We know he likes Kentucky Fried Chicken, but does he eat quiche? Everybody knows that real men don't eat quiche. Could that be his problem?

"Let it go, Happy Guy," my wife advised. "It just doesn't pay to get so caught up in all TV drama. Besides, this is a serious investigation with a serious charge and it should be left to authorities."

I sank down into couch. My wife was finally starting to make sense. "What are you going to do now?" she asked.

"I think I'll watch Touched by an Angel."

"Ah, that's husband I know and love."

"Right now Michael Jackson could use an angel, and so could all those kids. I mean, what can one little district attorney do?" I moaned.

My wife moaned, too. I was amazed that she would suddenly show such support.

"I know," I said, lighting up. "Never mind cable company. I'll call Tess. She can set Michael Jackson straight."

"But you don't have a tree out front, Uncle Albert."

"Right there," he pointed. "Across street. Hey Wilson! Stop blowing out my candles!"

"You lit candles on your neighbor's tree?"

"Ha! A lot of good that will do me," Uncle Albert sighed. "You would think ingrate would appreciate a little Christmas spirit now and then. Hey Wilson! Get some Christmas spirit, you overgrown porcupine pimple!"

"Maybe some people don't want Christmas spirit all year 'round?"

"Don't be silly, Happy Guy. Everybody wishes it to each other," he replied. "May Christmas spirit last all year. But it never does. You know why?" "I'm afraid I am about to find out."

"Because nobody wants to do all those things they sing so nostalgically about," he harrumphed.

"Maybe we just need some new Christmas carols. Instead of trying to make reality fit songs, why not sing songs that fit reality?"

"Funny you should mention that," Uncle Albert exclaimed. "I wrote one just other day. Want to hear it?"

"Uh...sure."

"Here comes another Yule, let's spend like a fool. Push 'n' shove at store, to buy even more. Light up lights, there'll be no star in sight. Turn up furnace, this world we will burn it. Chop down a tree, chop another down with glee. Wilson is a grump, such a whiny chump. (Like personal touch?) This year let's all cheer it, Whoo! I love this Christmas spirit. "

"That's very original," I observed. "I am sure there must be a market for just such a song...somewhere."

"That's what I thought," Uncle Albert beamed. "Heh, heh. This could even make me rich, rich rich! Ha! Take that, Wilson."

"That's Christmas spirit, Uncle Albert."