The other day someone I know received a bag of uncracked pecans, presumably as a gift.

I say “the other day” not because it was literally the day before yesterday, but as a literary device enjoyed by world-class writers to make a more comfortable transition to the subject matter.

I say “presumably” because of the behavior that attended the transfer of nuts: shaking hands, smiles, thanks, and finally the giftee’s grimace when the gifter turned away.

I had to ask him, “Is that a gift, or is it punishment?”

This may seem like the incoherent ranting of one given to fight-picking, like one who walks up to Clint Eastwood and says “Man, those spaghetti westerns are for sissies,” but those of you who are familiar with pecans know what I mean.

Cracked and hulled pecans are a gift. Pecan pie is a gift. Pralines are a gift. A pecan tree is even a gift.

But receiving a bag of uncracked pecans is unmistakably punishment for something. Giving someone a bag of uncracked pecans is like giving a man with an abcessed tooth an ice pick and a power drill and wishing him good luck. It is definitely unadulterated wickedness.

Perhaps I exaggerate, just a little, but this is the gift-giving season, and I don’t want you to commit a gift faux pas this year. For instance, a gift faux pas is like giving me something with a president’s face on it that isn’t flat and green.

I considered evaluating various ideas for your gift giving this season, but decided I only needed to discuss one very versatile gift.

Fruitcake.

The name itself is sufficient to provoke both side-splitting laughter and abject, spine-tingling terror, but the only thing more versatile than fruitcake is duct tape. Notice the similarity of the names.

Of course, there are the usual jokes about whether there is ever any new fruitcake, or if it’s all just recycled from year to year. You know, the fruitcake Aunt Matilda got from Uncle Ferederico is the same fruitcake Antony gave Cleopatra.

Not the same fruitcake recipe. The same fruitcake.

But more interesting than are the uses to which fruitcake is being put.

People in Mobile, coastal Florida, and towns in the Midwest are trying fruitcake instead of sand bags for flood control. Initial testing indicates that fruitcake is much more water-resistant than bags of sand, and even raging hurricanes can’t dislodge the leaden fruit block from position.

Blocks of fruitcake are useful for boat anchors, door stops and wheel chucks, especially to prevent fire engines from rolling during an inferno. Fruitcake can also be hung from the front of tractors and other heavy machinery as ballast.

In a pinch, two fruitcakes can be used as dumbbells in a strong-man competition.

Some enterprising contractors are using unwanted fruitcake (can anything be more redundant than that?) as building material, similar to concrete blocks, citing its advantage over traditional building material. Fruitcake is more durable, is impervious to heat or cold, and is a natural pesticide.

We’re out of time for today, but keep sending in other ideas for fruitcake that don’t involve consumption.

Recently a man became drunk as a skunk, and in his inebriated state stumbled, naked as Jay bird, over the local constable, who was lying down on the job because he was like a sloth, and moving at a snail’s pace. When asked what his problem was, the man responded “Well, I had been eating like a pig, so I thought I could handle my liquor. But I wasn’t quite as sly as a fox.”

Before we assess that the overreating imbiber was as dumb as an ox, we should consider whether he is, in fact, as deaf as a post, because earlier he had been asked “where are you going?” to which he responded “I’ve got fleas, and you know they multiply like rabbits.”

Police are investigating whether the man is actually as blind as a bat. Only feet away from the speed-challenged constable was a sign which read “Caution: slow law enforcement at rest.” In addition to being sight-challenged, the man was apparently as strong as an ox, because he walked right through the caution sign.

After being placed under arrest, the man ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, though reports suggest he is normally as quiet as a mouse. Witnesses who know the man were bewildered. One reported “After the sloth — I mean constable — put the cuffs on him, he ran off like a wounded duck. He swims like a fish, though, and made a bee-line for the pond, which was a good two miles off, as the crow flies.”

Arrest records indicate the man sports a tattoo on his left arm which reads “Mean As A Snake,” and which is apparently home-made and self-administered. This means he will be as busy as a bee in lockup, where tat skills draw inmates like moths to a flame. Incarcerated customers will be on him like a duck on a June bug.

Neighbors told investigators that the suspect owns several pets, and are concerned for their welfare while he is incarcerated. “They love him like a bear loves honey,” they said.

Crossfire has always been a favorite show of mine, largely because grown men get paid big money to argue with each other, and without interruption from kids, pets, or distractions from such inconsequential things as grease fires and overflowing toilets.

I’ve often wondered what would happen if Crossfire were modified to reflect the concerns and interests of rural life, instead of its ordinary fare of national politics and cultural issues. Here’s an absurd but altogether ludicrous illustration of what I had in mind.

JONES: From the Left, I’m Scooter Jones, and tonight I’m joined by Red Clark from the Right, sitting in for our friend Lefty Anderson, who’s off judging the Lower Alabama Prize Heifer and Abandoned Washing Machine Toss Competition. Our topic for discussion is “Worms vs. Crickets: What’s the best general purpose fish bait.” Stay tuned.

[Fade to advertisement for Catfish Paste, a noxious compound resembling spackle but which is particularly attractive to bottom-feeding scavenger fish.]

JONES: Joining us in the studio is Cooter Smith, self-described fish expert and tractor mechanic. Welcome, Cooter.

SMITH: Much obliged. Can I set this ratchet wrench somewheres?

CLARK: Cooter, you’ve written a book entitled You and Your Worm: How to Hold Your Mouth Right While Spittin’ Chew. In it, you take the position that there is nothing to compare with worms for fish bait. Are you serious?

SMITH: Darn tootin’. Wigglers, earthworms, nigh crawlers…worms is where it’s at.

JONES: You’re pullin’ our collective leg, Cooter. You also write, and I quote, that “the amount of worm gunk you collect under your fingernails bears a direct relationship to the quantity, girth, and flavor of the fish you catch.” You don’t have any scientific basis for that, do you?

SMITH: Scooter, you’ve been amongst the slickers too long. You Washington boys can’t help but lost your connection with nature when the only thing you’d catch in the Potomac is a skeleton that fell out of the Clintons’ closet.

JONES: Well, if your worm gunk theory is true, why aren’t Catawba worms good fish bait?

SMITH: Catawba worms, for one, are mighty scarce these days, probably even on the Endangered Bait List. Second, you almost always have to break a Catawba worm to get him to fit on the hook, and Catawba worms exude a green worm gunk, which is demonstrably inferior to the brown gunk of all other worm species. Besides, all those little suction cup feet make ’em hard to handle.

CLARK: Crickets are considerably cleaner and more efficient than worms. Why don’t you like them?

SMITH: I’ll admit that, for fish, crickets are much more bite-sized than worms. But you have to hook ’em just right, or they come slap off the hook. Here, lemme show ya’…you have to put the hook right here in the cricket posterior, thrust it up through that mushy interior, and anchor it in that cricket noggin. Any slight misstep in the hookin’ process, and you’re fishin’ with a bare hook. You can wrap a worm on there any ol’ way.

Besides, if the cricket isn’t all wet when he hits the water, he’ll float on top and make all sorts of cricket commotion.Then you have to sink ’em with a rock or sump’m, and by then all the fish are plum scared off. Worms sink like little ol’ rocks.

JONES: Is it necessary to use live bait? Doesn’t that cause worms, crickets, even minnows, some sort of ante mortem pain and suff’rin’?

SMITH: I don’t know nothin’ ’bout no Aunt Morten, but fish don’t cotton to no cold cuts, if you know what I mean.

CLARK: Cooter, we know exactly what you mean, but the sentiments of fish bait has always been the Left’s favorite red herring, pardon the pun.

SMITH: Red, looks like a cricket crawled in your ear. You might want to get that out before you sit down to dinner tonight…

JONES: And we’re out of time. For Red and Cooter, I’m Scooter sayin’ goodnight for Crossfire. Whether you bait your hook with worms or crickets, always spit outside the boat.

Y’all come back tomorrow.