This is the gift horse which I am staring down with a belly full of bile. I have a small house built in a rustic style. I'm not building a set for Battlestar Gallactica. We've been fighting this battle a long time. Every Christmas the crap pours in and we are supposed to find a place for it. I hate stuff. I want few possesions, the things I do want reflect what we're into. This year its over. I am going to find good homes for this trash, re-gifting is the watch word. The weird thing is that the worst offender, for it is well known I hate this kind of thing, is that peculiar American phenomenon I call the materialistic Buddist. I've got two of these folks in my inner circle, they read all the Eastern philosophy and still they shop shop shop. Oh yah, the squirell feeder is already gone to a good home where the owner won't be tempted to shotgun the welfare mammals.