Ladies and gentlemen, I give the Yule-Jim!
The idea first sprang, fully formed from my mind, when I read on our work site's homepage the phrase "Happy Holibration." Thinking to my self "The fuck is a "Holibration"?" I seized upon this idea and ran with it. If we had a non-denominational, non-offensive, and patently non-sensical way of celebrating the time of year that everyone from the Christians to the Pagans to the Mithraists have on their calenders (in some form or another), then we need an appropriate trinket that represents it.
I thusly nominate the Yule-Jim. No one religion expressly mentions packets of processed meat product, let alone festively decored packets of processed meat product. Even those who don't eat meat can either re-gift it to a friend that does with no worries of repurcussions, or simply hang it from a seasonal tree or office cubicle by it's convenient ribbon.
I had 14 of these. Slim Jims come in a package of 15 of the mild variety for about $2.58 US at Ye Olde Wale Marts, and the ribbon, being of the more expensive variety, about $1.98 US. Hence, Holibratory Joy for a mere [insert price here, it's too damn late]. One of the Jims had inexplicably vanished, leaving only an empty, unopened wrapper with a small nub of meat product in the bottom of the can. I'm assuming the Jims had been experimenting with trans-phasic digestive properties (possibly to bypass the colon altogether), and this one had simply been the victim of a failed experiment.
Most of the people simply gave me puzzled looks as a walked briskly off, but several appreciated it on a more personal level. The head man in charge at our building, a brilliant bald black man in his mid-40s (I think..he doesn't seem to age) objected to what they put in them, but when I reminded him he wasn't required to eat it, and it could double as a decorative object, was appeased. One of the upper muckety-mucks said "Thanks, but you should have gotten me a Hot one!" One girl didn't have any other lunch, and was grateful for the snack. Ribbon was spotted in her hair later on that night.
One of my favorites of the night, though, was a lovely red-headed girl (I know, I know..) who had recently lost her mother and was going through a bad spot. I'd heard she'd had a particularly trying day, so called her over.
Me: "I've got something for you."
Red-head: "Does it bite?"
Red-head: "Will it jump out at me?"
Me: "It's not alive.."
When she accepted it, she seriously brightened up. Almost as if that one act of bizarre kindness had turned her day around, and she was reasonably cheerful for the rest of the evening.
Guess it's the Khaotica spirit, getting into us all..