Donald Trump’s second First Lady—Elon Musk 

The wag on Donald Trump's arm is not Melania. Nope, that's Elon Musk, who is so close to the president-elect these days that he's known at Mar-a-Lago as the First Lady (or something else that rhymes with Donald's “s-n-i-t-c-h”).

Elon was sitting so close to Trump at the Florida White House during Thanksgiving dinner that onlookers couldn't tell Trump's drumstick from Musk's walnut dressing. And boy was Elon—the world's richest man and Trump's new efficiency czar—having a great time, howling like a hyena at Trump's jokes and slobbering praise on the man who would be king.

Having the world's richest guy as your buddy has its upside, for sure. But from the peanut gallery, it's hard to tell who's benefitting more from the unnatural symbiosis. Elon gets the much-needed spotlight and the ego strokes of being the big guy's unofficial financier. Trump, on the other hand, gets money and the prestige of playing puppet master to the guy whose ego is second only to his.

The big question is, how long can two giant egos inhabit the same biosphere? If there is one thing Trump can't handle, it's being upstaged. Musk, on the other hand, needs attention so badly that it's only a matter of time before Trump will have to take him down to size.

It's going to be better than Real Housewives. Picture Elon Musk in a bomber jacket driving a Tesla over a cliff. Now that's entertainment.

New Year’s Resolution: News Blackout!
Hey Wilson, have you heard from folks who are going cold turkey on the news? Turning on the news has, for many, become like sticking your finger in the electric outlet. After a while, you realize it just doesn't feel that good.

How many times do you have to hear that Trump has chosen a rabid whack-job to head the FBI, Homeland Security, EPA, CDC, etc., etc., etc. Argh! People can take only so much before they self-medicate.

That's why the staff here at Smart Bomb prefers newspapers. See Wilson, with a newspaper, if you don't like the headline you can just skip the story. That can save precious brain cells when contemplating things like Trump's need for revenge. (Lord knows the staff here at Smart Bomb has to conserve brain cells, self-medication notwithstanding.)

The Orange Monster's strategy by now is quite clear: Mess up our institutions to the point where they make the zoo's primate house look like Sunday school. His subversive cabinet picks are actually a two-edged sword—beyond driving Dems and progressives mad, hominids throughout the world are bracing for the Apocalypse. How'd you like to be in Ukraine, right now, Wilson? Gaza? Lebanon? Mexico? Canada? They didn't vote for Trump, but they'll get his wrath just the same.

Hark the Herald Angels Sing,
Glory to Black Friday/Cyber Monday
Like Thanksgiving, Black Friday and Cyber Monday have come and gone. Like it or not, Black Friday and Cyber Monday are now part of our Christmas holiday lexicon, right along with Santa Claus, decking the halls and jingle bells.

But wait, what does Santa Claus have to do with the birth of Jesus the Christ, let alone Cyber Monday? Santa is a tradition that may have started with St. Nicholas, who gave gifts to children in A.D. 280 in what is now Turkey. St. Nick didn't show up in the New World until 1773 and slowly evolved into Santa Claus, who rides around the globe in an airborne sleigh delivering all kinds of presents.

Traditions don't necessarily have to have anything to do with anything: We've always done that so we have to keep doing it. Now—in this country, anyway—Black Friday and Cyber Monday are knocking on tradition's door. Black Friday was coined as the day when retailers broke out of red ink. But like Cyber Monday, it has become an excuse to sell stuff.

This, of course, is all in the name of Christmas shopping, which is supposed to be about the celebration of Christ. Only 20 shopping days left! In the spirit of giving, we have to buy stuff and more stuff.

What would Jesus, the champion of the poor, make of our Christmas season? Luke 12:13 (GW)—“Be careful to guard yourselves from every kind of greed. Life is not about having a lot of material possessions.”

Feliz Navidad.

Postscript—That's a wrap for another week here at Smart Bomb, where we keep track of Druids so you don't have to.

Born from the ancient Irish Celts, Druids don't observe Christmas, they celebrate the Winter Solstice on or around Dec. 21—you know, when the days begin to grow longer. It's also known as Yule and Midwinter, a day sacred to Sun Gods.

According to The Order of Bards, Ovates & Druids: “Although the Bible indicates that Jesus was born in the Spring, it is no accident that the early Church chose to move his official birthday to the time of the Midwinter Solstice—for it is indeed a time when the Light enters the darkness of the World, and we see again the building of Christianity on the foundations of earlier belief.”

Merry Stonehenge. No Wilson, I don't think we qualify as Jack Druids, although it does have a ring to it.

The Ethiopian Christian Orthodox Church doesn't celebrate Christmas either. This denomination—among the oldest Christian denominations still operating today—does, however, observe the holiday Timkat on Jan. 19 and 20, celebrating the baptism of Jesus in the River Jordan. The joyous occasion is the biggest festivity of the year in the majority-Christian African nation, but does not include gift-giving—no Black Friday, no Cyber Monday, no Santa Claus.

But if you're not looking forward to the inauguration of Trump on Jan. 20, it wouldn't be a bad place to be.

Well shucks Wilson, the holiday season is in full swing. It's not all shopping, of course. There is singing and lights and eggnog and some people even go to church. But we digress, how about you and guys in the band ring us out with something that is out of the Celtic tradition as a nod to our Celtic ancestry:

Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night
And wouldn't you love to love her?
Takes to the sky like a bird in flight
And who will be her lover?
All your life you've never seen a woman taken by the wind
Would you stay if she promised you heaven?
Will you ever win?

She rings like a bell through the night
And wouldn't you love to love her?
She rules her life like a bird in flight
And who will be her lover?
All your life you've never seen a woman taken by the wind
Would you stay if she promised you heaven?
Will you ever win?
Will you ever win?
“Rhiannon”—Fleetwood Mac