The Ricochet Podcast - The Diner 2012 Christmas Special

Episode Date: December 24, 2012

Ricochet members, here’s a treat especially for you, courtesy of James Lileks: A special edition of James’ legendary radio show (and later, a podcast) The Diner. Not a member? No worries — you can join right now and be listening to this audio goodness in mere moments. A note of introduction from James himself: Christmas music ranges from the glorious to the banal to the utterly unlistenable... Source

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adults and low booking deposits. Holiday sorted. TUI. Live happy. T's and C's apply. © BF-WATCH TV 2021 Well, the good news, and there's always good news, is that the peppermint hamburger does not contain any peppermint. You might think it might, based on the name. I'm trying to warn you of something. But no, what they've done is they've taken ketchup and mayo and swirled them together, red and white, to give you the impression of peppermint. Not a big seller, no, because most people believe that it's, frankly, peppermint flavored ground beef. And while we know that just about everything this time of year has to be

peppermint, just like everything a month ago had to be all together now, that's right, pumpkin or spice or pumpkin spice. The idea of a peppermint hamburger just does not appeal. No, we're not willing to make that sacrifice for the holidays. And this is a time of sacrifice, isn't it? That's something I've got to talk to you about. Hi there, folks. Welcome back to the diner. I'm James Delon. Like I said, I'm sitting here at my accustomed place

at the long boomerang pattern for my counter here at the old diner on an old Highway 23, but 18 and a half minutes from wherever you happen to be at this very moment. And it's battering for my counter here at the old diner on an old highway 23, but 18 and a half minutes from wherever you happen to be at this very moment. And it's, well, it's busy here. It's been busy for some time. It's been busier, actually, than I've seen it in many years, in the many years since I've been coming to the diner. And the reason is quite simple. They decided to do something different earlier this year. They went to a different pricing structure for food. Instead of paying $1.98 if you have the toast and the coffee,

just a monthly fee of $5.95, and you could eat whatever you wanted. And they figured that they would make it up somehow on volume, I guess, but what they got were just a lot of people who paid a lot of money and brought friends. And those friends ate off their plate, and consequently, the entire business model of the diner has cratered, and the place is probably going to go out of business. I know. And I know what you're saying. Oh, we've heard this before. There's been nothing but war and rumor of war when it came to the diner's demise. For years and years and years, it goes away, it comes back. Every time somehow we drive down old Highway 23, there it is.

One of the lights may be off. It may be Einer this week or Dier or something, but it's there. It's still warm inside. It still looks like every diner ought to. Aluminum on the outside. Black and white checkered floor. Bonomatic coffee. There's wonderful little individual Rockola jukeboxes on the counter and all the booths.

It just never changes. It never gets worse. It never gets better. It's comfortingly the same. How could it ever go away? Well, it will, frankly. It's the way of all things, not just flesh. I mean, when you consider it, at some point, the sun is going to go nova.

And when it does, it will expand. That's the thing that I've learned, is that the sun gets really big and expands probably out to where the Earth is and burns it into a complete and total cinder. So at the very least, that's going to happen. But 2,000 years from now, you think there's going to be a diner sitting here selling these things?

No, for heaven's sakes. We have no idea what things are going to look like in 2,000 years. Well, we do if you listen to Zegra and Evans. What did they have in the year 4545? If man is still alive, if woman can survive, they might find what?

I don't know. Some machine doing it for you. I love that part. That whole song, of course, we thought was incredibly deep when we were growing up in the year 2525. And we were good little futurist kids who wanted to believe in the space program and Star Trek and all the rest of it. But man, those guys really did go long and deep. And they were

coming up with things like test tube babies. Wow. And I think like 35, 35 or something. And in 45, 45, nobody was lifting a finger to do anything because some machine doing that for you. Like that's a horrible notion or something. That's sort of kind of the idea of the whole leisure society, isn't it? To have these clever machines that can do things for us so we don't lose fingers in the abattoir. I mean, really, it would be better to have a whole bunch of

very clever robots that you've taught to use knives to slice things up as opposed to people who do it themselves and lose thumbs and the thumb gets into the chili and, you know, the next thing you know, Upton Sinclair is writing a book. So no, I have no problem whatsoever with machines doing it all for me. Because they can't do this, can they? Of course, you could say, and you'd be right,

that if we did have machines that we'd train to be bloodthirsty killer robots that were pretty much asking for it at some point, but I think we can deal with those bipeds walking down the main street, their vorpal blades going snicker-snack with a murderous look on their face. We can jump off that bridge when we get there. Where was I? Oh, right, Christmas. It's Christmas. The place may be going under, but it's Christmassy as all get out here.

And it always is. There's, well, over the aperture to the kitchen where the orders are placed and taken, all the stockings are hung with care. Why? Because it rhymes later in the poem with there. Nobody I know ever hangs a stocking. I don't know how you hang a stocking with care.

You hang it, right? There's a hook. You hang it. There you go. There's not a tremendous amount of care involved. There's a hook. You hang it. There you go. There's not a tremendous amount of care involved. There's not a lot of detail work. You just hang it. What else could you... The stongings were hung with abandon in hope that St. Nick would be Michael Landon. I don't know. Something has to rhyme. In new versions of the poem, I understand, the visit from Santa Claus by Samuel Clements,

also known as Mark Twain. I'm kidding. They've removed the references to Santa's pipe that no longer is his head wreathed with smoke because, of course, that would cause all six, seven-year-old children at an impressionable age to pick up a very long pipe and stuff it with Prince Albert and start puffing away. I know that's what got me going. Somebody offered me a cigarette and I thought, you

know what? It's not the fact that this woman is attractive and wants me to participate in her sin. No, I'm thinking back to those halcyon Christmas days. That's right. I want to be more like Santa Claus. Sure. Anyway, it being Christmas, that means that we have to give you the things, the Christmas music. For years here in the diner, we've done the same thing. We essentially go through really bad Christmas music, which is most of it. Most Christmas music is dreadful. There are about ten songs, and five versions of each of those that I can stomach,

and the rest of them are either novelty hits, or they are children's versions, which are unnerving in their, in their utter lack of anything approximating the sentiments that children really want. I mean, when I was a kid, there was a Christmas album for me. I didn't want to listen to it, because it was for babies, right? The only thing we liked was Alvin and the Chipmunks. That was cool. But everything else, the grown-up Christmas music was the stuff that said Christmas to me because that's what my parents listened to. That's what was around the house.

And if it was that jingly, jangly, Hello, kids, let's have a fun time with every single flippin' song starting with Jingle Bells, the shaking of which, not the song itself, I thought, eh, you know, this is Robert, oh, man. So we have those, and then we have the songs that people make hoping that they'll have a novelty smash on their hand, like Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer and the rest of them. And then, of course, we always end up with the old favorites, which are old favorites to me specifically because they came at the

sweet spot of childhood. And by other people, I may regard them them as utter boring, overblown pieces of mid-century kitsch, but I don't think so. I've made the point year after year that that mid-century sweet spot between 55 and 64, perhaps, was the apex of the Christmas music genre. There's an intersection of fine orchestras and great voices and pop music before it had been completely debased by the hippies, man. Zeger and Evans types. Wouldn't that be great, a Christmas with Zeger and Evans? I don't think they really got much more going for them than that.

Mungo Jerry, another group of my childhood, did have a couple more hits in England. Not over here, where the whole jug band thing just didn't catch on. But Zeger and Evans, I'll bet they wished they'd had something. When they first got their hit, they thought, you know, we're on the way. It's going to be eventually the Zeger and Evans Variety Show on Saturday night after Sonny and Cher

or something. We'll come out and we'll do bits and then we'll sing dystopian interminable songs about mankind's decline. It didn't work out for them. But as Edgar and Evan's Christmas, that would have been... In the year 9595, Santa is on a computer chip. And the computer chip is sent to you by a laser from space.

I don't know. Let's see what's in the old jukebox here. I'm sure that the fellow who comes in and stalks at the middle of the night has put in a variety of things dedicated to show us why most Christmas music is bad and some Christmas music is just wonderful. Let's go to A1. You know, kids, hearing those sleigh bells reminds me of one of the all-time Christmas favorites, jingle bells. And if you'll sing along with me on the chorus, I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun, okay?

We're ready. Peter, Paul, Percy, all set? Dashing through the snow in a one-horse open sleigh O'er the fields we go Laughing all the way Bells on bobtail ring Making spirits bright What fun it is to ride And sing a sleighing song tonight

Everybody! Jingle bells, jingle bells Jingle all the way Oh, what fun it is to ride In a one-horse open sleigh Jingle bells, jingle all the way. Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh. Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way. Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh. A day or two ago, I thought I'd take a ride.

And soon the silly witch was seated by my side. What? The horse was lean and lank. Misfortune seemed his lot. He got into a drifted bank. And then we got upset. Everybody. Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way.

Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh. Well, no, no, no. Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way. No, no, no, no, no. Enough. Enough. Man. Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way. No, no, no, no, no, enough. Man, that was Jingle Bells, in case you didn't recognize the tune. And it was from the album Christmas at Dr. Fun's Fun House.

That's right, Dr. Fun's Fun House. And the double use of the word fun there indicates that Dunn was head in the making of the product or the consumption of it later. Jingle Bells, as you can tell from the second verse there, which you rarely hear, is not really very Christmassy in the sense of the birth of the Savior. It doesn't necessarily even hew to December. It is about racing a sleigh quite quickly

and ending up in the ditch, frankly. It's a hot-rodding song. Essentially, it's Hot Rod Lincoln for the horse set, but it's been appended to Christmas and we'll never get rid of it. Well, I like it fine. I just never hear it again in my life. That'd be okay, too. Does anybody ever hit the 26th, 27th of December and say,

Did I hear Jingle Bells this year? Let me think now. I heard Jingle Bell Rock, but I don't know if I heard rock around there. I heard jingle bell rock, but I don't know if I heard jingle bells this year. It's a given. You're required. All right, let's see what else we have here on the jukebox. This one is from D2. When Santa Claus comes There'll be Rudolph

And all the other reindeer true There'll be Christmas toys For little girls and boys And an icicle named Icky too Icky Icicle, Icky little Icicle Born on Christmas Day Icky Icicle, Icky little Icicle Rides on Santa's sleigh He has a sharp little nose

And icy little toes And his tummy's very even round As the cold wind blows he grows and grows But he's growing upside down Icky Icicle, Icky Little Icicle Farms on Christmas Day Icky Icicle, Icky Little Icle Icky Little Bicycle rides on Santa's sleigh

as he rides along he sings a Christmas song a song of Christmas Day at D.E. but as everybody knows his vocal cords are frozen and every note he sings is off key Icky Bicycle Icky Little Bicycle And every note he sings is our key.

Hickey, icicle, hickey little icicle, born on Christmas Day. Hickey, icicle, hickey little icicle, rides on Santa's sleigh. As the sun comes up in... From big brands to local heroes. Hansenburger, Supermax, Sansab, Shupa, Grilla, Bujum, and Galorella. No hassle delivery direct to your door with Just Eat. Delivery and service charges apply. See JustEat.ie for details. On doors today, get Just Eat. As he moans himself, his little nose begins to run

Though he bites his lips, it doesn't stop the drip Icky's growing time is done Icky Bicycle, Icky Little Bicycle On the Christmas day Icky Bicycle, Icky Little Bicycle Rides on Santa's sleigh As he drifts away His heart is wide and gay

It's been a long and joyous trip But to ride Santa's sleigh Till the break of day Is worth it though our icky's now a drip When Santa Claus comes It is worth it though our icky's now a drip. When Santa Claus comes there'll be Rudolph and all the other reindeer too. There'll be Christmas toys for little girls and boys and a little drip named

Icky too Holy jeezum crow I believe that was a song poem you know those were those little ads in the back of blues or magazines. Lyrics wanted to set the music.

Make money. Be on the Billboard Top 100. And so people who had absolutely no lyrical aptitude whatsoever would send them the lyrics, and you'd have these guys, these studio musicians, not top shelf, shall we say, who would then just bang out a tune, and they'd press a record and send it to the guy and charge him 500 bucks or whatever. No radio station ever played them.

No store ever sold them. But they're highly prized now because they're outsider art, don't you know? Well, there you have somebody who thought he was going to create a new Christmas character. An abiding Christmas character, Icky Icicle. And even piggybacked on old Rudolph there. Rudolph and Frosty, that's pretty much it, as far as I can tell. The Grinch, yeah, but Rudolph and Frosty in song form just made a lot of people think that they could do it, too. By the way, while that was playing, one of the owners of the diner,

as you know, the ownership of the diner has been mysterious for some time. Well, he went out to the bridge to throw himself off the bridge. I know what you're saying. It's so close to Christmas. What sort of despair would well in a man's heart that he would fear so much for the fate of the diner that he would go to the bridge and throw himself off. Well, he was hoping that there would be some divine intervention at the last moment, an angel would intercede, take him away and show him what life would be like if he'd never lived and all that stuff.

You know, the dino would be at McDonald's, the highway would be cracked and impassable, you know, all that stuff. But no angel showed up and he actually fell in the water. And they fished him out. He's being revived with chicken soup in the back there. So if you're thinking about the whole Clarence thing and angels getting the wings and Zazie's petals and people coming in the door at the last moment with a lot of money.

And it could happen. The tax liabilities would do that. I'm not sure exactly what... How did George Bailey report all that income after everybody came in at the end and had the money and gave it to him? I mean, was it a gift? Could you get it under... Were there no legal repercussions whatsoever from the fact that Uncle Billy lost the deposit? Did nobody wonder where it went? Did the examiner ever note that $2,500 popped up in old man Potter's stuff on the 24th?

Did Potter have that much pull? That's what I want to say. The other thing that I want to say is, you know, it's not like you can't have Bedford Falls, George Bailey style, and Potterville somewhere else. There's nothing keeping Mr. Potter from opening up a Potterville down the road somewhere. And frankly, that looks like a happening place. I wouldn't mind spending a night in Potterville.

Okay, you've got your haunted druggists who put poison together, medicine for kids, and you've got the fights and the rest of it, but... I could have an interesting night in Potterville, that's all I'm saying. Let's see what else we've got here. There's probably more song poems to come. Oh, I shudder, I do, I do. Now this looks promising. Why?

Why, it's Kate Smith here at M1 in the jukebox. Ah, those wartime clarinets. I like the distinction. We can celebrate underneath the sky of blue. A merry American Christmas. How happy we should be. As the church bells chime that it's Christmas time in the land of liberty. Yep, it's wartime. In every lighted window, you'll see a Christmas tree. Put it out, there's a blackout on.

And hoths of young and old alike are joined in revelry. A merry American Christmas. The holiday's begun. This is the time for peace on earth. Goodwill to everyone. Except for Hitler and Tojo. © BF-WATCH TV 2021 In every lighted window You'll see a Christmas tree And harks of young and

older life are joined in revelry a merry American Christmas the holiday's begun this is the time for

peace on earth. Goodwill to everyone. Except for Gary and Anita. I love the culture of the 40s, the pop culture, I do. Cheerful, steadfast American patriotic.

And confident of victory. Except maybe in 41. It was kind of dark. But after that, no. So I'm going to give you something else here in the 40s. Yes, I've been looking ahead to see what's on the jukebox. I'm going to give you Kay Kaiser. Kay Kaiser and his college of musical knowledge.

And you've got to know that that C in college was spelled with a K. Because that's funny. You spell something with a C with a K? That's hilarious. And K Kaiser came out as kind of a gibbering fool, you know? He came out in a mortarboard and an academic gown, which was funny, because he was dumb, kind of crazy in a way, but he wasn't. He was a very smart man, and a good businessman, and a great band leader. And the K Kaiser band had a lot of hits, for good reason. It's cheerful little stuff.

It could be infantile. Yes, they did Three Little Fishies, which still to this day introduced diabetes and a chair leg for the sweetness of it. Widow Fishies, that's right. Grown people singing Widow Fishies to grown people. But what he did was, there's a couple of things that I noticed when I started listening to King Kaiser music, every single song has

the same couple of musical riffs, there's this da da da da, either the horns play or the piano play or somebody, the sax, whatever it's in every tune, and then there's this transitional element that they have somebody will come out and say the name of the song you know, it's castrated lambs on a field of gold, and then they'll

play a nice little melody, and then there will be this da-da-da-da-da-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba I can't sing, I'm sorry. And then they'll change key and then the vocals start. It's in every song. It was their trademark. And it's a sort of musical trademark.

I don't know if anybody has today. Or you could call it a cliche. Or you could just call it a cheap little device that they used and threw into every song so they could get to the singing part. But whatever it is, what we have here is something that the audience knew at the time all the members of Kay Kaiser's band come out and sing. One by one, Ginny Sims and all the rest of them, including Ishka Bibble. Ishka Bibble was a name that my father would say from time to time, and I never knew what he meant when he would say almost dismissively,

Oh, that's just Ischke Bibble. Well, Ischke Bibble, Yiddish roots aside, was in the Kay Kaiser Orchestra a character, an idiot, a yokel. And you will hear here that Ischke Bibble essentially invents white rap by talking constantly about the things that he wishes. Also notice how the voices change, how the speaking voice and the singing voice are different, and also the smoothness of some of these guys, and also the way that they can introduce a little laugh into their voice when they say something like, I'll see you Christmas night, or hello Mr. Kringle.

It's all acting. It's all singing. It's the sort of thing you don't hear anymore. For good or ill, you don't. So here, yes. Here at... Okay, is this a flip sign? Really, it's F2. Kay Kaiser.

Hello, Mr. Kringle. Hello there, Mr. Kringle. Ding-a-ling-a-ling, a-ling-a-ling. Come on, children. Santa Claus is on the phone. Hey, Harry, you take it first. Hello, Mr. Kringle Ting-a-ling-a-ling, a-ling-a-ling hello mr kringle ting-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling i want to order a hug for my brother a kiss for my dad and mother when you're fixing my sweetie's christmas tree put on a lot of love for me hello there there, Mr. Kringle. Hello, Mr. Kringle. Now, I don't want to be a smarty,

but am I talking to the right party? You say it's all right because your other name is Santa Claus. Well, then, hello, Mr. Kringle. Ding-a-ling-a-ling, a-ling-a-ling. Everything will be all right. And I'll see you Christmas night. Wait, don't hang up. I'd like to speak to Mr. Kringle, too. Okay. Santa, here's Ginny's name. Hello, Mr. Kringle.

Please bring a tie for Daddy's brother, Joe. And my cousin Jane, that's a big one. Won't you help her get her phone? Hey, Cindy, she'll hang up that phone. Let me get in there. All right, Santa, here's Sully Mason. Hello, Mr. Kringle.

You know I'm in love with the sweetest thing, and I don't want to stay single, so please bring her a diamond ring. Hey, Sully, wait a minute. I have a word to say. Okay, Scooby-Doo. Hello, Mr. Kringle. I'm not going to ask very much.

Honest, Mr. Kringle. A couple little things for a touch. Just a brand new plate of old bed, a right plate of swinging gator, a big balloon, a big balloon, a bean, a hot tub, a drop of coffee.......... ... ...

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...... As far as we know, Ishka Bibble is still giving his list to Santa Claus.

I love that line, I don't want to be a smarty, but am I speaking to the right party? You say it's all right because your other name is Santa Claus. Well, then hello, Mr. I mean, yeah, Santa's, it's his busy season, okay? He's probably got better things to do than listen to questions from guys who are wondering if he's the same as that other guy. Yeah, I go by a few names. Father Christmas enters the mix as well.

It's never Christmas for me unless I hear that song. And I don't know why, other than it's just tradition. Why do we do the things that we do? I don't know. But it's what God wants me to do, which is to listen to that tune. Traditionally, the things you build up over the years and you don't quite know why

is part of everybody's celebration. We have Swedish meatballs, for example, at Christmas Eve. When I was growing up as a child, we had Swedish meatballs. When my wife was growing up, she had Swedish meatballs. Now that our family traditions are combined,

we have Swedish meatballs, which are... Well, it's an egg noodle and a cream, and then these hamburgers made of meat from which all flavor has been scientifically extracted. It's just wonderful. Put a little pepper on it. Ooh, if you're feeling spicy, that's different. I'll give you that. But, yeah, so my daughter now expects Swedish meatballs as what constitutes the only meal of Christmas Eve, and I'm sure everybody has theirs. Crack of lamb, hamburgers, ribs, I would hate to think that your Christmas meal consists

of dominance. Well then, so that was the 40s. Time moves on, culture moves, and all of sudden, all that stuff that was Kate Smith-y and Kate Kaiser-y before, that's just dad stuff, right? We've got to come up with something that's new. And it speaks to what the culture is now, what's going on, man. Because that other stuff is L7. It's hard-read.

It's nowhere. It's dead. Right? What on the street says that the guys have got themselves a new sound. And it goes something like this. It was the night before Christmas and all through the pad. Not a hip cat was swinging, and that's nowhere, Dad.

The stove was hung up in that stocking routine, like maybe the fat man would soon make the scene. Kids had fell by and just made the street. I was ready for snores,. Man, was I beat. When there started a rumble, it came on real frantic. So I opened the window to figure the panic. I saw a slick rod that was making fat tracks,

souped up by eight ponies, all wearing hat racks. And a funny old geezer was flipping his lid. He told them to make it and man like they did they were out of the shoot making time like a bat turning the quarter and eight seconds flat parked by the smokestack and bunches and clusters till chubby slid down coming on like gangbusters. His threads were from Cubesville, and I had to chuckle. In front, not in back, was his Ivy League buckle. The mop on his chin had a button-down collar. And with that red nose, Dad, he looked like a baller. Like he was the squarest, the most absolute.

But let's face it, huh? Who cares when he left all that loot? He laid the jazz on me and peeled from the gig. Well, and have a cool yule, man. Later. Like Dick? Man, that was Ed Kooky Burns.

Cool cat. Cool cat was on 77 Sunset Strip for a while as Ed Kooky Burns, where he combed his hair constantly and said hip beat things. Didn't have much of a career after that, although he did appear in Grease, the movie, which gave him enough juice in Hollywood that he was able to be the host for the pilot episodes of Wheel of Fortune. And I can't think of anybody more antithetical to our own Pat Sajak than Ed Kooky Burns.

But let me say something. I hate those guys. Those beats. I know, I know. We're supposed to regard them as the vanguard of the rethinking of American culture in the 50s. Brave souls, brave. Living in New York and writing poetry

that no one wanted to read. Hanging around with Allen Ginsberg, trying to slap his hands away. But that whole man stuff, that whole cool stuff, it's funny when it's played for laughs, but if you look back at, for example, some of the historical documents that I like

like Twilight Zone and Alfred Hitchcock shows, you will find that these characters were often played as amoral, antisocial, malevolent types who combed their hair conspicuously, rolled up their cigarettes, although they were post-Brando, had white t-shirts, and sneered at everything.

Man, all your middle class trip, I don't know if they said trip or probably bag, that was probably it. The bag became a trip, but before it was a trip, it was a bag. And they were just unlikable characters. Capable of anything. If you wanted to terrorize an audience on a television show in the 1950s, have a beat walk in, man. There would always be one little sidekick who would be giggling at everything that the cool guy said. But they'd all be finger-popping cool, daddy-o.

Or they were played strictly for laughs in a musical sense, that they were an artist who wore shades and said daddy-o an awful lot and were essentially idiots. So no, no great love for the pizza. You know what? I have to avail myself of the facilities here. Banging back the diner coffee, which is as good as ever, and I'm going to miss it.

I'm going to miss this coffee. I'm going to miss this place so much. Even, you know, I come here some days and never say a word to anybody and just read the news. Just to look around and see how it's always been and how I thought it would always be. If it closes, I don't want to think this is the last Christmas at the diner. I really don't. But I'm going to avail myself, as I said, of the facilities. And while I'm away, a word from one of our sponsors.

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E nello pilole che oggi hai Poi verrà quattro mesi per tre You know, I'm starting to think there might not be a Christmas miracle after all. That's the way these things always end, isn't it? Christmas is in peril. Christmas might not happen this year. And then there's a miracle, after all. That's the way these things always end, isn't it? Christmas is in peril. Christmas might not happen this year. And then there's a miracle. A miracle. It snows, for example. That's regarded as a miracle.

I guess a fairly straightforward and standard expected manifestation of a meteorological phenomenon. But it's a miracle. Or Santa is able to overcome the difficulty that is always placed in his way at the last moment and get around to see the kids um or frosty comes back or something like that isn't there a frosty comes back and that's a miracle frosty i mean that's straight up necromancy okay it's got nothing to do with christmas a magic hat a chapeau imbued somehow with some dark arts brings him to life. Now, if that's the case, then if you put that hat on anything, it would come to life, right? I mean, if I remember the story correctly,

it was just blown around until it ended up in his head. So in other words, if that hat had fallen on a pile of meat in a butcher shop, the meat itself would have assembled into some sort of vaguely humanoid form and said, happy birthday. That never got old. And walked around and delighted the kids. Kids would not have been happy to see a big shambling pile of meat coming at them. That would be a miracle. And if it happened on Christmas, it would be a Christmas miracle. But I really can't see that falling into the category of Christmas miracles that kids love and remember.

So, no Christmas miracle. Well, that pretty much shadows your faith in God, doesn't it? When you think about it, it is rather peculiar that any of these stories should have to come up with another Christmas miracle. I mean, isn't the whole point of Christmas a miracle in and of itself? You can imagine God saying, okay, let me get this straight 2,000 years ago. I sent you this babe, conceived without sin, who grows up and redeems

the entirety of mankind, and now you want another miracle that consists of me somehow figuring out a way to get the fat man with all the toys to your house. Okay, I can do that. I can do that. I'm God, but really, next year, next year. So anyway, there's going to be no divine intervention here.

There will be no miracle. So barring anything else, the diner itself, I'm afraid, is going to close, which means I've got to get it downstairs. If I can bribe somebody to get downstairs. Yeah, that's a great thing, isn't it? Christmas, it's a time for bribery. If I can bribe somebody to get down in the basement of the a great thing, isn't it? Christmas. It's a time for bribery. If I can bribe somebody to get down in the basement of the diner, I can get a couple of bottles of Jubal.

Not that I'd ever drink them. But that stock down there is the last amount of Jubal existing in the Western world. A soda long dead, long gone, long remembered. Hey, wait a minute. We could go on eBay. We could tell somebody that we've got Jubal. We could sell it. We could make an awful lot of money. That's right. We could go on eBay. We could tell somebody that we've got Jubal. We could sell it. We could make an awful lot of money.

That's right. We could have an auction. An awful lot of money. There are people who would kill for those vintage bottles. That's it. That's what we'll do. Yeah, but then you've got to monitor the auction and the whole bit. And that's one of the reasons that I never did the whole eBay thing.

You've got to pay attention to it. We could have a buy it now option i suppose buy it now jubile 1940s discontinued soda pop a hundred thousand dollars i might give it a shot i don't know i but i don't have anybody around here have an ebay account we can use for this hello hey uh they're all clustered around the cash you know clustered around the cash register all the eBay account we can use for this? Hello? Hey. They're all clustered around the cash register. All the waitresses and the busboys and the chef, too. Interesting. They're waving me over.

Hold on. I've got to. They want to talk to me about something. I'm going to put a song here. I'm just going to go to T1 and see what it is. And maybe it's something Christmassy. Maybe it's something miraculous. Long years ago on a deep winter night ¶¶ ¶¶ Sweetly asleep on a bed of hay

Jesus our Lord was that baby so small Lay down to sleep in a humble stone Then came the star and it stood overhead Shedding its light round his little head. Dear baby Jesus, how tiny thou art. I'll make a place for thee in my heart Then when the stars in the heavens I see Ever and always I think of thee It's a Christmas miracle. It's a Christmas miracle. It's a Christmas miracle that the diner is saved.

Some customer left a $10,000 tip under his plate. It's a $10,000 bill with Salmon P. Chase's face on it. It's obviously fake. I mean, it's a counterfeit. Of course, those things were never in general circulation. They were just used for transfers between banks. But we've got really good, crisp security footage of his face. So once we turn him into the authorities, there's a reward.

And we'll be able to keep the diner going on that reward. Heck, maybe even after the trial, we'll get it back and we'll be able to sell it on eBay. $ that reward. Heck, maybe even after the trial we'll get it back and we'll be able to sell it on eBay. $10,000 Salmon Pee Chase note. Great. Well, there's already some guys who are going out to their car now to see if they can follow him and maybe turn him in and get that reward as soon as possible.

But it's great news because a miracle has happened and because, as we know, if Christmas is saved within the particular confines of a single dramatic narrative that means Christmas has been saved worldwide so everybody relax, have a great wonderful Merry Christmas and know that the diner will be here in 2013

as ever. I'm James Lalix, thank you for listening and I'll see you down the road. © BF-WATCH TV 2021