It’s pretty well known that our standard Gregorian calendar ends in a bang with December, the fire sale of all months, where “all holidays must go!” If it hasn’t been celebrated yet, it will be in the 12th month.

Right after Thanksgiving is a rush to churn out all religious holidays such as Christmas, Hanukkah (with or without the silent ‘C’), Kwanzaa, Ramadan and New Year’s Eve. Celebrating the final day of the year is understandable.

I mean, it’s always a special occasion when Dick Clark comes out of his cryogenic paradise. Kwanzaa is really the only holiday that I do not understand.

This is what I do know: Many African-Americans celebrate their culture and heritage on this holiday invented by a Long Beach State professor in 1965. There’s nothing wrong with celebrating tradition, but Kwanzaa is just as traditional as Sweetest Day.

Have I offended you yet? Relax, that’s why it’s a humor column in the Opinion section. But before you get your gun and look me up in the directory, let me get to the heart of my article, which is that day we have come to accept as an American holiday more than a religious holiday, Christmas.

First, I want to look at the word: Christmas. How can we abbreviate this? How about “X-mas?” Just replace “Christ” with “X.” Can we really do that? How come we don’t refer to the Messiah as “Jesus X?” Because then our savior looks like a civil rights leader.

Word on the street is that presents are popular at Christmas. Everyone gets them, regardless of holiday awareness. One-year-olds get fire trucks, jack-in-the-boxes and other things they can choke on. Everyone else is guaranteed at least one article of clothing. And what about poor Sussman? He never knows what to ask for because in October and November, he makes selfish purchases for himself, like the Onion’s new best-of book, “Dispatches from the Tenth Circle.” If I want something, and it’s not the month of Christmas, I have a right to spend a little cash on myself. But apparently we have to wait until Christmas in case we might get it from someone else. Conversely, your secret Santas might get their signals crossed and get you the same thing.

Last year I got two copies of “Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me.” Ironically, I never watch either anymore. Like the gifts I know I get every year, like my Uncle Mike (I think everyone has an Uncle Mike) renewing my subscription to Sports Illustrated annually. Every year I find a more secret place to hide that swimsuit issue.

The decorations of Christmas last almost two months if you’re eager to put them up and lazy to take them back down. And that’s something else; what other decorations besides the pumpkin for Halloween, the flag for Independence Day, or the laundry for Mother’s Day, are synonymous with their respective holiday? At our house, we have this decoration of Rudolph the (neglected) Reindeer which hangs on my door ever year. I pretended to like it, but the older I got, the more it just freaked me out. Plus it’s so bulky I couldn’t close my door shut completely. When I go home Rudolph better not be on my door, and my dog Sophie better be dead. However, when that Christmas tree comes down in mid-January, I’m getting a head start and putting my Presidents Day decorations up.

So what’s my humble opinion of Christmas, you ask? Well, my feelings are mixed. After pondering for some time, I realized that there is a George Carlin CD that just came out, so that’s basically my Christmas list. If I get it, I’ll like Christmas. On the other hand, if they get me an XBox, then I’ll just give it to my dad as something he can fire his guns at. And if somehow those Arizona Cardinals win the Super Bowl, then “Happy Hanukkah!”