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The point on my head, that is.

Just a brief Almanac to mention two items of interest. The House of Rancid Lunchmeat has recently begun appending the following onto their cash-register receipts:



At first I thought this was meant to say, "God Bless U.S.," as in the United States, but you wouldn't write that ... you'd write either "God Bless the US" or "God Bless USA."

So I'm not sure of what to make of this: Is the owner of the store asking us to pray for him? Is he saying that God has already blessed him? Or is this a Christmakwanukah tie-in, a la Tiny Tim in "A Christmas Carol"? (Maybe they were trying to write "God Bless Us Everyone," but the last word wouldn't fit.)

It's been on the receipts the last three times I shopped there, so it wasn't a mistake. Maybe no one else has noticed.

In other business, if you don't read the weekly chats held by Gene Weingarten, a humor columnist for The Washington Post and author of the disturbingly funny The Hypochondriac's Guide to Life. And Death, you should. You're missing off-the-cuff exchanges like these:

Dear Mr. Weingarten: I am eight years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, "If you see it in Mr. Weingarten's chat, it's so." Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?

Gene Weingarten: You blew it. Your place name should have been "Virginia."

However, I shall answer your question.

Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. Why, there is a Santa as surely as there is a Virginia! Go to any shopping mall, and behold him. True, he may often look like some homeless guy with a false beard earning a few bucks for booze by forfeiting his self-respect for the further enrichment pf corporate bloodsuckers trying to trick customers into overspending money they don't have on presents they can't afford for people they think they love.

It's love that doesn't exist, Virginia. We all die alone.