To begin with, has anyone actually experienced this entire "12 Days Of Christmas" song in one setting? It’s the Bataan Death March of the yuletide season. It’s the “99 Bottles Of Beer On The Wall” of Christmas songs, a nightmare of obscure gifts made even worse through recursion. No one can make it through the whole thing.

And not all of them make sense. Six of the days involve animals which can be kept as pets, or eaten as food. I get that. And who wouldn’t want five golden rings? Gotcha. It’s at the end when it starts to get weird, and they actually start throwing in real people as gifts. We don’t need maids to milk anymore, and the lords leaping don’t seem to serve any purpose at all.

“Hey, Merry Christmas! I’m going to send some guys to come over and jump around your house.”

Of all the professional gifts in the song though, my favorite would have to be the famed drummers-a-drumming. Why on Earth would that be considered a good gift?

Nobody likes drummers, with the possible exception of the 4% of the US female population who’ve slept with Tommy Lee. They’re annoying, loud, have a lot of equipment to drag around with them, and can be replaced with the rhythm setting on a $30 Casio Keyboard.

How many drummers are famous in the mainstream? Neil Peart, for being the greatest. Rick Allen, for having one arm, which pretty much invalidates the theory that having all their appendages makes a difference to a drummer. Tommy Lee, for reasons of nudity and hepatitis. That’s about it.

And nine of them? Who thinks the perfect Christmas gift for that hard-to-shop for person is their very own drumline?

It’s much the same as in “The Little Drummer Boy.” I understand the tike had no money for a gift for the baby Jesus, but newborns don’t really dig drum solos. They’re infants, not jazz aficionados. Perhaps if you were going to see Buddy Rich’s son, whipping out a quick sixteen bar percussion solo would be appropriate. Otherwise, no. Just let the kid sleep. That's what the mom wants him to do anyway.

Drums are not a gift unless you have a sound-proofed house, or are giving them to a child who doesn’t live with you as a practical joke on that child’s parents.

 -- Reid Kerr got his first drum set at age three, and trashed it Keith Moon-style at five.

I just bought Jack Kerouac's "On The Road" on a book-on-CD, as read by Christopher Walken. It comes on a boxed set of 232 CDs.

Wal-Mart cares.

That's the only way I can describe this sale, featuring blank CDs for a jaw-dropping fraction of the cost. I mean, anytime I can buy something and save one-one-thousand, three-hundred and forty-eighth of the cost, I jump all over that deal.

How else could you make ends meet during this recession? With the money I saved by buying these at Wal-Mart, I was able to start a retirement account, founded a my own charity, and treated myself to dinner at a fine Mexican restaurant (it rhymes with "Taco Schmueno").

Seriously, why would you even bother to put this display up? Was it worth the time to stack all of these up and put up the signs that say you can save a whole penny on these CDs?

I'm sure somewhere there's a poor Wal-Mart employee who spent all day restocking the shelves, toiling in other people's filth, just looking forward to the moment his shift ended and he could walk out the front door, past the idiot greeter to freedom. Then, just as his time is about to end, the manager comes over and tells him to grab a couple pallets of CDs, because they're going on sale.

"How much?" the tragic hero of our story asks.

"One whole penny," comes the answer.

"#$@%^@" replies our hero.

"And hurry...it's for a limited time only."

Reid Kerr likes to go to Walmart and pretend he's somebody else.

I saw this at one of my local grocery stores, and was stunned. I just sat there for a few minutes, contemplating what I could possibly be looking at.

Well, it's not negative to the point that "chub" is, anyway. That sounds too much like "C.H.U.D."

Reid Kerr is finally professionally successful enough that he doesn't have to eat meat out of a tube anymore.

Last night, Lovely Wife Kimberly and I were eating at Chick-Fil-A. We were out shopping, and stopped in to grab a sandwich. However, we forgot it was "Kids Night," where anyone bringing a screaming child gets a free chicken nuggets kids meal. It seems like the offer was doing a good job of driving traffic to the restaurant, because it was so full of kids I thought the Jonas Brothers were giving away autographed chest hairs in the lobby.

Anyway, while we were eating I overheard what may be the silliest complaint ever. This man, his wife, and two kids were sitting behind me, and an employee walked over to the table to tell them something. Using my powers of observation/eavesdropping, I heard the employee politely apologize and explain to the gentleman that on Tuesday night, every child receives a free four-piece nuggets kids meal when an adult buys a dinner.

This guy was rudely complaining that his boy couldn't get a six-piece meal for free.

He told the poor employee that it wasn't clearly indicated anywhere that the free meal was a four-piece meal, and dismissed her saying he'd take it up with the upper management.

Is that what we've come to? We're complaining because we don't get enough free stuff?

This disgruntled customer, we'll call him "Mr. Douche," continued to complain on and on and on right through rude, then thoughtless, then to the point of comedy. Half of the people at his table ate for free, but that wasn't enough. Meanwhile, my 401(k) account is shrinking like wet cotton candy, and Mr. Douche is upset about fifty cents worth of nuggets.

I was afraid this guy was going to hire a shady lawyer, sue for deprivation of nuggetry, and call me as a witness.

"Have you or someone you know been unjustly denied your full nuggeting privilege? Did your son or daughter have to suffer the indignities of not being completely full of free food? Call me. I'm Brock Biffman, 'The Hammer of Justice." As a semi-licensed attorney, I'm dedicated to getting you your full free meals worth of chicken, regardless of whether or not it was offered.

At Brock Biffman & Associates, we don't get paid...until you get full."

We complain about the stupidest stuff sometimes. This Chick-Fil-A offers a "Kids Night" where kids not only get free food, but also get to play in their playground, a giant human hamster habitrail where kids can climb, run, and generally exhaust themselves. It's not like your standard terrifying fast food ball pit, all full of human waste and pointy things. It's really nice. If they had a night where they let adults run around in it without fear of societal scorn, I'd be there every week.

The worst thing about the situation was that this guy was sitting here complaining loudly in front of his kids. Little Billy and Bonnie were hearing Daddy rage about the injustices of only getting four nuggets for free instead of six, and you know that's going to warp their little minds.

Fifteen years from now when bodies start showing up in my town, bludgeoned to death and left in an alley with two pieces of chicken left behind as a calling card, perhaps I'll be the only one who can solve the mystery of "The Mad Nuggeter."

This was one of those moments I really wished I wasn't a public figure. I would have just walked up to the table and handed the guy a pair of nuggets, and saved his kids a lifetime of therapy.

"Pardon me for interrupting, but I thought I might be of service. Here are two nuggets for each of your children, along with an array of sauces and dips for your perusal. There is justice in this world, children, but you won't find it in a deep frier. Never stop seeking it."

And then I would turn on my heels, and make a dramatic exit, stage right.
 

Reid Kerr thinks Chick-Fil-A never disappoints, but is unfortunately never on sale, either.