I made sure my jack-o’lanterns were removed from my porch before I started putting up my Christmas tree.

It was today, but they ARE REMOVED now.

Intermarriage of the holiday ritual icons isn’t pretty. It produces mutant icon children of the most horrid and extreme nth degree. Not the cool kind. Professor X doesn’t want this kind.

For evidence, I submit that house down the street. The one with so many mixed-holiday icons that the grass can’t grow because the whole yard is in shadow.

On the bright side, they keep the concrete-goose factory in business.

On the dark side, they keep the concrete-goose factory in business.

In southern Indiana, the lawn-ornament people really go for those concrete geese. You can even buy seasonal clothing for them. You know, the clothing the goose would have worn in its natural habitat. Over its feathers. While swimming. Or flying in a V.

I am starting to be skeptical about that theory, however. If geese really wore seasonal clothing while flying in a V, wouldn’t there be the occasional report of someone getting bonked on the head with a little pilgrim shoe falling from above? Wouldn’t there be an indie film called “The Geese Must Be Crazy?” Wouldn’t we have reports of “Little House on the Prairie” bonnets washing ashore? Wouldn’t biologists be finding dead geese on the bottoms of lakes, weighted down with Santa boots? Someone should contact the Enquirer about researching goose lore.

Enquiring minds want to know.