A 'happy holidays' to Ross, the Boss, Madonna in Mylar

MIKE LITTWIN

December 25, 1992|By MIKE LITTWIN

Does everyone know what day it is? Well, then, will someone in the class please tell Admiral Stockdale?

Yes, it's that time of year again, when I've checked my list who knows how many times and am finally ready to send out holiday greetings the cheap way. Meaning you pay.

(Actually, I would have mailed them myself, but have you been to the post office lately? It was so crowded in there the other day, the thin Elvis stamp couldn't have squeezed in.)

OK. Time for the year-end collection.

Happy Holidays:

To Ross Perot, for making America safe for paranoia.

To Fergie, for her toes.

To Anita Nall, for real.

To Yassir Arafat, for getting married, but not to Ross Perot's daughter.

To Penn and Teller, for making mayhem funny.

To Woody and Mia, ditto.

To Pat Buchanan, for proving you actually can be too mean.

To Malcolm X, for the best comeback since Dick Nixon. (A special gift for Tricky Dick: a tape of "Malcolm X" to add to the multimillion-dollar collection.)

To Tim Robbins, for Bob on Bob.

To George Bush, for not being there much longer.

To Bill Ripken, wherever you are.

To Seinfeld, for the show about you know what. (A hint: It was the formerly funny Woody's favorite hobby.)

To Tom Arnold (Yeah, the show stinks, but at least he hasn't dropped his pants).

To Marge Schott, for giving everyone the opportunity to feel superior to somebody.

To Arsenio Hall, for the nickname Arsmoochio.

To Sally Thorner, for giving us the year off.

To Boogie, for the ponytail.

To Boog, for the barbecue.

To Taylor Branch, for the book to come.

To Chelsea, for not being afraid to let us see her smile.

To Arthur Kent, for being the Cindy Crawford of scuds.

To Magic Johnson and Larry Bird, for allowing us to watch.

Prediction No. 1 for 1993: In a public relations move, Blue Cross will turn its Camden Yards sky box into a liposuction clinic.

Prediction No. 2: Orioles President Larry Lucchino, eager to improve his image, will change his name to Wolf Blitzer.

Prediction No. 3: George Bush will join Sonny Bono on tour.

Prediction No. 4: Bob Packwood admits writing off-color letters to the queen mother. Says he was drunk at the time.

Bonus question, worth 20 points: Are Slash and the Edge the same person, and, if not, why not?

Now, the gift list: Eli Jacobs, one big na na na na, na na na na, hey, hey, hey, good-bye.

Michael Jordan, a new pair of Reeboks every day.

Spike Lee, ditto.

Barry Levinson, new material.

Bruce, old material.

Body Count, a stopwatch to clock how long it takes the police to get there after they call 911.

Prince Charles, a plant he can relate to (how about Al Gore?).

Mrs. Perot, some extra cash for the ear muffs she's been saving up to buy Ross.

Kurt Schmoke, another school superintendent?

Cal Ripken, a new stance, the old swing.

Sam Kinison; a very loud GOOD-BYE.

Arthur Ashe, a heartfelt apology.

The Guv, a blackjack table in every garage.

The queen, fire insurance.

Howard Stern, just one FCC commissioner with a sense of

humor.

Babe Ruth, more William Bendix, less John Goodman.

Jackie McLean, a Mercedes.

Dan Quayle, thanks for the memories.

The National Football League, thanks for nothing.

And finally, as a special year-end treat, the Mike Littwin Person of the Year. There were many worthy candidates, but I narrowed the field to Madonna, Princess Di, Bill Clinton, Dava Carvey, Ice-T and Mike Littwin.

And the winner: Madonna, of course. The vote was unanimous. In a year when sex and violence were especially prominent, she managed to combine both in a single, Mylar-wrapped book. Her prize, a special ring for that hard-to-fit body part.

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