On the album playing now, the collection of Elvis Christmas tunes we only listen to this time of year, The King asks us this question:

Oh why can’t every day be like Christmas?  Why can’t this feeling go on endlessly?

I know this isn’t a serious question.  It is a question that most would say requires no thoughtful response.  I, however, feel that a response to the master of the swinging hips is in order.  Why can’t every day be like Christmas?  I’ll tell you.

If every day were like Christmas we would, at least in the good old USA, all be broke.  How could you have a Christmas savings club if you only had 24 hours, instead of 364 days, to save?

If every day were like Christmas, we would have massive credit card debts and even more, if it is possible, UPOs* filling up our garages and basements and closets.  Who needs another snow globe or bottle of aftershave?  Who needs another gift basket of high quality and delicious and useful Vermont products?  Don’t we have enough sweaters?

If every day were like Christmas, retailers wouldn’t have the bump in sales that comes from the end of the year spending blitz.  How would they survive if they had to depend on regular sales for their unsustainable continuous growth?  But, you might say, wouldn’t Christmas every day mean huge sales every day?  I am afraid not, as we would hit our credit limits, even those of us with FICO scores of 770.

This feeling can’t go on endlessly because then we would be so nice to each other that we would learn, as a collective population, to care too much.  We could not afford to make sure everyone had decent health care, or heat in the winter, or enough to eat.  That would be too expensive.  Then again, it might mean that all of us started to see paying taxes as our duty as citizens of a free democracy.  That, however, would mean that the Republican Party would go belly up.  Think of the job losses.

If this feeling were to go on endlessly, we would be happier, would we not?  Therapists would go out of business.  Big Pharma would lose millions in sales.  Then again, if we stopped spending so much on Prozac and Ambien, maybe we could spend more on junk to wrap up.  We could afford all those tasty and well-crafted Vermont products.  But that, however, would mean a lot of stress on Vermonters who would have a difficult time keeping up with the demand.  They would need things like Prozac and Ambien to make it through.

Can you see the problem here?

Sorry, Elvis.  It just can’t be.

*Unnecessary Plastic Objects