Free The Undocumented Mark Steyn by Mark Steyn Page A

names sound alarmingly like their home-making tips: “For fun onChristmas morning, why not cut up the gift tags and randomly assemble them into holiday-advice-book author-pseudonyms?” “Judith Blahink”? Isn’t the blahinks what Scrooge has when they find him face down in the mulled cider? Christmas? Blah-hink-humbug.
    I don’t want to give the wrong impression. A lot of the stuff in these tomes is very intriguing. Each year, for example, I dig out my old pal Martha Stewart’s entry in the field— Martha Stewart’s Christmas —and find myself strangely drawn to the phrase “coxcomb topiary.” The thing’s huge. It starts out as a misshapen lump like a hobbit that’s fallen into a trash compactor but that’s before Martha’s got to work “studding” it with—to pluck at random—“tiny pomegranates dusted with clear glitter.” Who would have thought the English language would ever have need for those words assembled in that order? Every third week of December, I read them and marvel. And then I drive to Walmart.
    “Coxcomb” is the perfect Perfect Christmas Book word. Not all perfect Christmas authors are hip to that. Some think you can eschew “coxcomb” and get away with “potpourri,” which your run-of-the-mill generic mediocre Most Fantastically Perfect Christmas Ever book throws around the joint like, well, potpourri. But what is it the Fool tells King Lear? “If thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb.” Or I am thinking of his codpiece? I always did get them mixed up at school. Codpiece topiary would also add a distinctive touch to one’s holiday, although perhaps a livelier talking-point than one might want in a Christmas centerpiece. But the point is, if thou followest Martha, thou must needs wear her coxcomb. Also her persimmon, another great Perfect Christmas Book word. If I were ever to write my own seasonal advice book, I would do so under the nom de plume (or, indeed, nom de plume pudding ) of Persimmon Coxcomb.
    In Old-Fashioned Country Christmas by Vickie and Jo Ann of the Gooseberry Patch, Joan Schaeffer is more off-hand: “Snip herbs and tie in small bundles to dry. During the winter when the fireplace is in use, toss a bundle of herbs into the crackling fire for a wonderful scent.” I like the insouciance of that “toss.” But it’s a very useful tip. A blazing hearth of oregano helps tone down the overpowering stench of cinnamon that can otherwise so easilypredominate at this time of year. Still, the truly perfect preparing-for-Christmas book eschews Schaefferesque nonchalance, preferring an artful balance of massive effort and minimal reward. Nothing sums up the genre more succinctly than the two words “non-alcoholic wassail,” for which cup of cheerlessness one can find a recipe in Christmas 101 by Rick Rodgers.
    As the title suggests, Mr. Rodgers, the author of Thanksgiving 101 , sticks with the basics. “Organization is a skill I developed as a caterer,” he begins. Without organization, you’re screwed. You’re Baghdad beyond the Green Zone. But, with organization, you’ll be your very own Red-and-Green Zone, and Mr. Rodgers is the go-to guy. Before you can organize your Christmas it’s important to organize the organization of your Christmas, and a useful aid to organization is something called a “list.” That’s why, like many seasonal advice-givers, he has a section called—wait for it!—“Making a List and Checking It Twice.” This isn’t his line. He got it from the lyric for a song called “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.” Did you know that seasonal music can often add an appealingly seasonal touch to the seasonal atmosphere at this seasonal time of the seasonal season? Why not teach yourself vocal arranging and work up your own a cappella multi-part medley of “In the Bleak Midwinter” and “I Wonder as I Wander” for cousin Mabel’s kids to distract Gran’pa with on Christmas morning as you’re putting the final touches of