Yes, I Actually Do Feel That Strongly about It
Inkey and I have been having a little, uh, discussion about the nature of stockings. The Christmas kind. Those that hang-by-the-chimney-with-care kind.
She has rules about stockings and their giving potential, and I suppose, as a good friend, I could let her have her misinformed rules about stockings, their price limits (boundless!), and capacity (infinite!). But I'm too good of friend just to just let that go.
Stockings can be stuffed with precious treasures. I'll go there. Who wouldn't like to find an iPod or Planet Earth DVDs in their stocking?
But the key words here: stuffed with, in. In the stocking.
If it don't fit in the stockin', my dear, dear friend, it is a small gift.
Now to concede a point, as Inkey has so justly pointed out, I am not the arbiter of all things stocking. I have no degree in neither stocking nor Christmas. (Did I just double negative? I have a degree in neither stocking nor Christmas? I grammatize. Back to point.) But I do offer this argument, from, I think we will all agree, an established resource on stockings and their acceptable uses: Santa Claus.
As you'll remember from his biopic (Santa Claus is Comin' to Town, as reported by Romeo Muller who also wrote The Twelve Days of Christmas, Noel, The Wish That Changed Christmas, and The Leprechauns' Christmas Gold, and therefore obviously knows of what he speaks), Kris Kringle (aka Saint Nick, who'll argue with a saint? Please.) employed the covert nature of the stocking to distribute toys , in direct defiance of Burgermeister Meisterburger's despotic outrage against the as-yet-established celebration of Christmas.
Stockings, filled with furtive treats and trinkets, let me repeat, filled with furtive treats, saved Christmas. Plainly and clearly, that is what they are: furtive and filled.
(I expect we'll be hearing from Inkey soon . . .)
P.S. A note from Webster:
stocking stuffer
Function: noun
Date: 1948
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