Mike…Mike, please hear me out…

I have nothing against Christmas. Adult though I am, I still look forward to it every year. In fact, last Christmas I bought not one but two advent calendars; one for home and one for the office, and not just because I love chocolate. Because I love Christmas. So you can imagine the joy I felt when I woke up yesterday morning and it was Christmas. I smiled as I passed the heartwarming red displays in the department store windows. I delighted in the wreaths hung jauntily off the lampposts. But encountering the holiday displays at the Duane Reade gave me pause. Why? Because it was November 1st, Mike. November 1st.

What happened this morning, though, was so horrific that, going forward, it shall only be referred to as The Christmas Cup Incident. Pleased with myself for waking up extra early to vote in the mid-term election, I decided to treat myself to a cup of Starbucks as reward for doing my civic duty. After waiting in line for four hours, I ordered a tall cup of the Thanksgiving Blend, which was promptly poured and handed to me…in a red Christmas cup. Thanksgiving Blend; Christmas cup. A Christmas cup that assaulted me with this lame little bit of folksy crap written along the side of it: “When I give gifts,” it read, “I always get more in return. Funny, isn’t it?” Actually, no, Starbucks, that is not funny. That’s about as un-funny as the predicament of encountering 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife is un-ironic. Thanksgiving Blend; Christmas cup. Let’s just say that things started to get a little blurry.

“Um…wait…no…” I stuttered.

“Yes?” asked the inhumanly perky barista.

“Thanksgiving Blend…but Christmas cup…” I said weakly, feeling a small trickle of blood run from my ear.

But no. Inhumanly perky barista just didn’t get it. “Yes! That will be $12.79, please,” she said.

And that’s when my head exploded. Blood and strawberry hair, all over the store. It took three baristas to scrape away the bits of my brain that were stuck to the espresso machine. It was pretty embarrassing, Mike.

Please don’t misunderstand, I’m certainly not waging some wrath-of-Fox-News-inducing War on Christmas. I don’t want anything about Christmas to change whatsoever. I just want my autumn back. Mike Bloomberg, I think you’re the man to help me.

Think of it, Mike, this could be your next great campaign! You’ve already taken on smoking and noise pollution–what better way to improve the quality of life in your city than by ensuring the fall season gets the reverence it deserves? The possibilities are endless: you could pass a law banning pre-holiday wassailing; you could offer tax breaks to businesses that wait to decorate until December 1st; hell, play Autumn in New York on the Times Square Teletron if you must. That will benefit New Yorkers and  Winona Ryder — win/win situation if you ask me. This could be the move that gets you elected for yet another term as mayor or – dare I say it? – the move that gets you elected president. Defending the Sanctity of Thanksgiving: The Tea Party would eat that crap up.

You can do this, Mike; I know it. Remember, the Great Pumpkin only visits the pumpkin patch with the most sincerity. Don’t you want New York to be that pumpkin patch next year? You can do this. Save autumn in New York!

Thank you for your time, Mike, and don’t forget to vote.

Let’s face it: Some celebrities could use good advice. Meg Boyle gives it to them every Tuesday.

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