Dear Ms. Mabel, 

My neighbors' Christmas decorations are ridiculous – 10,000 lights strewn all over the house, the yard is littered with various blow-up creatures and it’s all just so tacky. Frankly, I’m embarrassed for the whole neighborhood. How do I approach them in a productive way?

Deplore the Decor,

Hendersonville, TN

Truth be told, you need to sit yourself down because Mabel’s got something to say about THIS.

Good heavens, you’re really out here complaining about those decorations like the world personally wronged you. I swear, I heard Buddy the Elf whisperin’, ‘You sit on a throne of lies!’

You only wrote a few lines, but I can tell you’re carryin’ on worse than Cousin Eddie after too much eggnog. Maybe you forgot what Clark Grisw—well, the good Lord bless him—said about the season: ‘We’re gonna have the hap-hap-happiest Christmas.’ Not the grumpiest, you weirdo.

You fussin’ about lights is like the pot callin’ the kettle tacky. Those folks put up a few thousand bulbs and suddenly you're actin’ like you’ve witnessed a crime spree. I oughta pat your hand and say, ‘Keep the change, ya filthy animal!’ but I’m tryin’ to stay Christian.

Honestly, baby, you sound like an elf who flunked outta the North Pole. Buddy himself would stare at you wide-eyed and declare you’re ‘A cotton-headed ninny muggins!’ And frankly, I’m thinking he’d be right.

And you know what the Santa Claus fella said? ‘Seeing isn’t believing. Believing is seeing.’ Maybe if you believed in something besides your own irritation, you’d see those decorations for what they are: joy. Pure, sparkly, slightly tacky joy. The very best kind.

Your neighbor’s out there tryin’ to make folks smile, big dummy. Meanwhile, you’re peepin’ through the blinds like a possum with opinions. If minding your own business were a Christmas gift, you’d have re-gifted it five times already.

So let Mabel spell it out slow:

Let. Them. Shine.

If the biggest problem in your life is somebody else’s twinkle lights, then praise the Lord, you are blessed beyond reason.

Now hush that grumblin’, put on something with holly on it, and try to act like it’s December, not the end times.

I’ll be praying for you. And … ugh, okay fine. I love you, darlin’.