When sources as diverse as CNN's Roland Martin, and local weekly The Whatcom Independent come out with almost the same wording for their nonsense, I have to wonder -- did they get a memo? Who sends out these memos? Was it Bill O'Reilly again? "You can't say 'Christmas' anymore" seems to have become one of those urban legends that people actually believe, like "Reading in dim light ruins your eyesight" and "We only use ten percent of our brains." (That's only true for Bush supporters.)

Once again, to anybody out there who believes this, just do it -- say "Merry Christmas" to someone you don't know in a public place and see if storm troopers take you down. I am 99.9% sure that they won't.

Of course, the person you say it to might get offended, but you can never tell what's going to offend people. I have seen a homeless man seemingly deeply offended by the gift of a bananna. I have sometimes managed to offend people with my cartoons or writing, and it seems to be worse the more care I take and disclaimers I attach -- statements like "When I say that people do this I don't necessarily mean you" never seem to penetrate.

So forget it. I do mean you. Yes, you.

On Boxing Day I managed, somehow, to offend a man by asking him not to let his dogs use our yard as a litter box. I looked out the window and saw a man in a yellow raincoat walking three off-leash dogs, two adults and one puppy, through the alley. They were so matched in appearance I guessed they were purebreds, some kind of tall, brown, pit bull variant.

He paused near our backyard and the dogs began nosing about in our yard. Since we find dog excrement in our back yard with disgusting regularity, I had a very bad feeling about this behavior. So I opened the back door and fussed with something on the porch so that the owner would know I was there, be embarrassed, and get his dogs to move on.

He didn't. When I looked out the window again, one of the dogs was squatting in the middle of our yard, while the man watched, holding a shovel. I opened the back door and called out, "Hey, what do you think you're doing?"

He said, "I'm cleaning it up."

I said, "I see that, but what is your dog doing in our yard in the first place?"

He freaked out at this point and sputtered incoherently -- the only part I could make out was something like, "If you think you can control where dogs go -- "

Then he swung the shovel, sending the scat fragments flying randomly through our yard and probably the neighbors' yard as well. And then the yellow-jacketed poo-flinger stalked off with his big dogs, muttering to himself.

Now, I can only assume that his reaction was not because he was genuinely outraged that I questioned his right to let his animals crap in my yard. I have to assume that he already knew what he was doing was, if not deeply morally wrong, at least the sort of thing that the average person would find objectionable. And I didn't pre-escalate the situation by swearing at him, or pointing a gun at his head.

I believe he reacted the way he did because he felt shamed, and he didn't like feeling shamed, which made him angry, and he took his anger out on me -- the cause of his shame. I was just trying to get him to think twice about what he was doing and be a little more considerate of his neighbors. Instead, he chose to assert his right to be a complete jerk.

His message was clear: I get to do whatever I want, even if it is annoying or harmful to you, and if you try to do anything about it, by God, I'll make you wish you hadn't.

Now, I don't know if I'll ever see him again. And I don't know what his behavior really means -- maybe he was just having a bad day, and now deeply regrets his impulsive poo-flinging. But ever since then I have imagined him back at his house with his enormous dogs, plotting revenge.

Where was I?

Oh yeah, Christmas.

There's a lot to complain about during the Christmas holiday season. Crass commercialism, sappy heartwarming entertainment, and nauseating attempts to combine the two. Crazy unrealistic expectations about home and hearth and family and The Perfect Gift, all leading to despair, guilt, and recriminations. Supposedly fun social experiences that are excruciatingly painful and awkward. People constantly trying to make me eat sugar under the pretense that it is a "treat."

But the one that bugged me the most this year is the relentless anticipatory frenzy that starts in October and ends abruptly during the afternoon of December 25 in a depressing pile of non-recyclable gift wrap and a hangover of disappointment. Christmas lasts until Epiphany, darn it. (And then it's Mardi Gras season!) Our society seems to have slipped into a groove where we obsess over events farther and farther in advance, only to be sick of them by the time they actually occur. (2008 elections anyone?)

Are you still celebrating Christmas? That's over, man!

There's a reason that one of the standard holiday-themed newspaper articles is the one about holiday stress. Deadlines cause stress. When you have December 25 as a hard deadline for your big long list of stuff you think you have to do, stress is the inevitable result.

So: it's still Christmas until January 6. Every year.