When did it become vogue to compare being correct with politics? Let’s examine the two for just a minute. Correct means being right. Politics means, well, it means a lot of things. Like laws and rules and lies and sex and war and lies and money and sex and tax codes and lies and emission standards and sex and not controlling the bird flu and lies and illegal immigrants and sex and, oh you get the point.

And speaking of points, at what point did politics become the standard by which to judge whether something is correct or nor correct.

Of course, we only use the term when we are communicating and we want to say something that will not hurt someone’s feelings.

For example, if I was calling someone a no-good, lying, two-faced, money grubbing, woman-chasing, whiskey drinking, smear on the fabric of society, by today’s standards I’d be forced to employ political correctness and simply call him congressman — or preacher.

Shame on you if you laughed out loud at that. And if your name is congressman or preacher, you know I’m not talking about you. But I bet you have some friends who fit that bill. Calm down, I’m just kidding. I would never use a simple politically correct term when a much more eloquent description, such as the one above, serves the greater good.

And I guess that is my point. When did we become so sensitive? When did we stop calling things what they really are? Or to put it in even more simple terms, when did we stop calling it like we see it.

We have gone so far around the bend with this political correctness thing that we can’t even wish someone Merry Christmas without wondering if we’ve somehow offended that person. That just makes me sick to my stomach.

Holiday trees instead of Christmas trees. The winter break instead of Christmas vacation. Give me a break.

Now I understand the commercialization of Christmas and have come to accept that phenomenon. Lord knows, I’ve got a front yard full of lights, mechanical deer, inflatable snowmen and even a Santa Claus that goes up and down out of a chimney like he‚s stuck in a toilet. And I realize that these decorations don’t have a thing in the world to do with what many of us believe to be the true meaning of Christmas. But somewhere out there in my front yard, amongst all of that gadgetry and electricity stealing balloons, are the words “Merry Christmas.”

So when you ride by my house and slow down to look at all of the pretty lights and decorations that my wife and daughter worked so hard on, if the word Christmas offends you, prepare to be offended. Because if I happen to be in the yard, watching the electricity meter spin around, I may just shout out Merry Christmas myself. And if that bothers you, then you can just jump right in there with Santa.

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