Christmas is many things to many people. We all have our personal vision of the perfect holiday. We can’t all be right and here is why.

Trees: Wood or plastic?

Plastic was good enough for my grandma and it’s good enough for me. In Ben Godar’s universe, however, Christmas festivities would be held in a decimated world without trees except for the one rotting in your living room.

Oh sure, the real ones smell nice as they slowly wilt by the TV for our pleasure, but they shed needles faster than an Amsterdam junkie. And talk about a fire hazard. You want to live dangerously? Why not dowse your living room in Pine Sol and gasoline for that “Yuletide on the edge” effect.

Only a spoiled rich boy like Godar would recommend that families blow $50 or $60 on a pathetic wastrel of a tree that would have been better used as a home for squirrels.

Knowing Godar as I do, he probably gets his holiday trees from the median of Interstate 35. Those trees are for everyone, Godar, leave them alone!

Assuming he doesn’t land in the hospital again for his annual series of rabies shots, Ben and his family will be decorating their tree while drinking eggnog laced with rum, nutmeg and meth as they laugh at Iowa taxpayers for just leaving those trees lying around.

What’s for dinner?

Any jackass can peel the plastic off a Farmland ham, shove it in the oven with some cloves and pineapple rings and call it a feast. Ben “I’m all about the pig” Godar would have us all swilling ham to celebrate the birth of Jesus. As if it is appropriate to eat pork at the birthday party of the King of the Jews. Besides, that’s what Easter is for.

You can eat ham any day of the year; why not raccoon, Ben? If it’s good enough for the family reunion, surely you could hit enough meat on the way to grandma’s house to save the $8 you would otherwise spend on dinner. Why not just cram a few slices of baloney on some Wonder Bread with Miracle Whip and call it Christmas, Benny Woodman?

I have seen Godar eat ham, and it isn’t pretty.

A nice, thick, bone-in ham might be nice, but wouldn’t that be cannibalism, Ben? Ham only sounds classy if you’ve got a Malibu up on blocks in the front yard next to the tractor-tire art.

The true epicure will tell you (and, yes, I mean Martha Stewart) that turkey or goose is what’s for Christmas dinner. When you see that bird come out of the oven, stuffing pouring from where its guts used to live, a tear comes to eye.

And when Grandpa takes that butcher knife in his shaky hand to carve each serving in spite of his crippling arthritis— that’s love with liver spots, baby.

Decorations: Simple or festive?

While there is something to be said for self-expression, festooning one’s yard with plastic reindeer, animatronic Santa Clauses and 30 megawatts of flashing red and green lights is just tacky overkill.

Tasteful decorations should suffice. A simple wreath on the door and some white lights is not only a distinguished way to say “Merry Christmas,” it also says you are secure enough in your holiday spirit to not overdo it.

Why must Ben “heaven shine your light on me” Godar draw attention to himself in this manner? Is he trying to make up for some shortcoming?

Christmas is not about making your neighbors feel like heathens because they are unwilling to turn their domiciles into cheap New Orleans’ whorehouses.

But from all accounts, Godar favors that environment, so why should Christmas be any different.

What’s on the tube?

The season would not be complete without watching “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” at least once. The central theme of giving even at one’s own peril is so precious and timeless, it brings tears to the eyes of even the stoniest. But not Godar. He prefers the plastic, commercialized “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” a character not even invented until the 1950s by communists trying to make Americans love Reds. It stands to reason doesn’t it? I have read one or two Godar columns in my time and if this guy isn’t a commie, then I’ll eat a nice bone-in ham for Christmas. The dude is nothing but a Lenin clone.

Santa or Jesus?

Any fool knows Santa kicks a whole lotta ass. The only problem for Godar is that he IS an ass. I’ve got your present, Godar, a nice, bone-in fist.

Come and get some boy-o. I’ll tear you a new one.

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Greg Jerrett is a graduate student in English from Council Bluffs. He is opinion editor of the Daily and twice the man Ben Godar is.