'Tis the Season to Knead Wally

Normally, he enjoyed watching rows of lights pulse rhythmically in darkness. However, several Christmases on Mamaroneck Avenue in White Plains had compelled him to rethink his preference. "From now on," he thought, "I might catch my buzz from bioluminescent fish."

Many people's holiday decorations are subdued and reassuring. Unfortunately, the flashing lawns of Mamaroneck were unhindered by taste or restraint. A drive through the nabe yielded a non-stop clutter-fest of Santa constellations, electrocuted reindeer, frozen greeting card screensavers and flickering trees like massive defective lightbulbs. Of course, there was nary a dreidel, kinara or Winter Solstice tree in evidence. Yet there was no shortage of Alpine crosses and glowing plastic mangers. (Diversity, where are thy bulbs?)

If they'd really known him (and he knew they never would), the people who displayed these atrocities would be glad he didn't own a home. Otherwise, his seasonal tableau vivant might consist of taxidermed Prancers, Donners and Blitzens with red light bulbs protruding from their eye sockets, and humans dressed as spotted cats peeking out from behind them. He would call his creation "A Donner Party Xmas (and a Leopard Society Kwanzaa)."