Yule Be Sorry

Holiday. Christmas. Holiday. Christmas. As long as we’re all talking about the time of year when Americans freak out and trample each other at Wal-Marts in a desperate race to owe credit card companies money, who cares what you call it? The Metro Council, that’s who. Eric Crafton, channeling Bill O’Reilly, got the political festivities off to a fine start this year by complaining that Nashville’s elected officials have taken the Christ out of Christmas. He and a handful of colleagues got all blustery for Jesus, and next thing you know, every elected official in Nashville is walking on eggshells, tailoring their tidings of comfort and joy to whatever handful of constituents they come across that day. Frankly, they seem confused. Take Vice Mayor Howard Gentry, for example. By tradition, the vice mayor hosts the council for a party every December, and this year was to be no exception. All the usual traditions are observed: someone drinks too much eggnog, someone starts speaking in tongues and some poor sucker inevitably pulls Harold White’s finger upon request. (Last year, we’re told, it was the ever-gullible Mike Jameson.) But what do they call this festive gathering? When Jewish Vice Mayor Ronnie Steine was hosting, it was a holiday party. Then, the ever-inoffensive Gentry took over, and things got innovative. Two years ago, the event was billed, awkwardly enough, as a “Holiday Council Christmas Party.” The next year, it was a “holiday party” at the Adventure Science Center. This year, it was to be the Council Christmas Party. Unfortunately, it’s been postponed until January 2006. Does New Year’s offend anyone? Even the mayor took some holiday heat over the Christmas controversy, earning a pointless City Paper story about his “holiday” greetings vs. arch-rival Gov. Phil Bredesen’s “Christmas” cards. We’re told, however, that the governor sent 46,000 state employees a paycheck insert full of “holiday” cheer. Last weekend, he went shopping all by his lonesome at the Green Hills mall—a secular Sunday deed if ever there was one. Purcell, on the other hand, awoke bright and early on the Lord’s Day and headed over to Fisk University, where he attended Sharon Kay’s on-air WFSK-88.1 Christmas party. It should be noted that he wished us a suspiciously emphatic “Merry Christmas.” All in all, the seasonal semantics are much ado about nothing. Even councilmanic proponents of government-sanctioned Christmas like Jason Hart have sent out “Holiday” greetings to colleagues. Crafton, too, forwarded an email to the entire council last week. It was the ridiculous chain letter promising that Bill Gates will send you a check for every person to whom you forward the message. “What do we have to lose?” Crafton wrote his colleagues in apparent seriousness. “Why not try?” That’s pretty much his governing strategy, too. On Bryant, on Gentry, on Garrett, on Cooper ’Tis the season for petty politics of all persuasions. The Ed Bryant senatorial campaign sent out a press release last week attacking centrist Republican Senate candidate Bob Corker because the Scene editorialized that he’d make a good Bredesen opponent. “Bryant unconcerned by alternative newspaper’s support for one-time gubernatorial candidate,” blared the release, which made Corker sound more likable by the minute. Then again, we’re writing about it, so you can’t call Bryant’s campaign strategy ineffective. Just tacky. Meanwhile, U.S. Rep. Jim Cooper seems to be suffering from a case of seasonal affective disorder. Folks who have seen and heard him around town lately say he’s sounding a bit monotone and lifeless, and he’s said to be disenchanted these days, both with politics in general and Congress in particular. Sure, the guy puts on a brave grin for his “Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays” card—smooth syntax—but is the goodhearted, well-regarded congressman happy on the inside? And is he really running for re-election? On the local front, Howard Gentry boldly kicked off his mayoral campaign Monday with a fundraiser at Club 615—the stadium-area bar better known as the site where Titans rookie Pacman Jones made headlines for getting into a brawl with club management. It may be the most controversial decision Gentry has ever made. And then there’s Davidson County Register of Deeds Bill Garrett, who an alert Scene reader points out has been using taxpayer dollars to campaign—I mean, to let new property owners know where to find a copy of their deed should the need arise. “Dear property owner, Congratulations on your recent purchase of property located in Davidson County,” begins the courtesy note on Metro letterhead with Garrett’s name atop it. The letter then assures the recipient that “the responsibility of keeping these permanent public records safe, accurate, and accessible is one that my staff and I take very seriously.” Eventually, it strays into a civics lesson. “We are blessed to live in the greatest country in the world,” Garrett gushes. “Along with the many rights and privileges we enjoy, we also have responsibilities. I believe every responsible citizen should take part in choosing all government leaders. I encourage everyone to participate in each election by educating themselves about each candidate and then going to the polls to cast a vote for the candidate of their choice.” This cheap campaign ploy comes complete with voter registration information. Sleep easy, Nashville, knowing Bill’s keeping your deed safe. And to all a good night.