the pulse

Handing out the gifts that keep on giving

So it's Christmas week, as all of you Time magazine People of the Year know so well, and as I'm feeling particularly generous, I've decided to dispense with the whole "naughty or nice" qualifier and simply hand out gifts as I see fit.

Here is how my list looks:

For Michael Richards: A lengthy battle with lockjaw.

For Lindsay Lohan: The embracing of a bold new concept called leaving the bed, rather than getting into it, as the sun is rising.

For Britney Spears: Participation in a cover-up. Along with closure.

For Mel Gibson: A chauffeur, preferably one who will drive him to an Anti-Defamation League dinner where he's assigned a table with a group of Holocaust survivors.

For Stephen Colbert: Knighthood.

For Katie Couric: Her old job back.

For Dan Rather: His old job back.

For Howard Stern: His old gig back.

For the Rolling Stones: Something for their aching backs.

For Dane Cook: A joke that's actually funny.

For Oprah Winfrey: A conversation that isn't all about her and her uncompromising, sublime wonderfulness.

For Rachael Ray: A prescription for Ritalin.

For Helen Mirren: An award designating her Actress of the Century, which she unfortunately wouldn't accept given her level of humility.

For Paul McCartney, Spears, Christie Brinkley, Whitney Houston and Reese Witherspoon: Spouses who aren't complete jackasses.

For O.J. Simpson: A one-way ticket to a planet in a distant galaxy.

For Judith Regan: A ticket to the same planet as O.J., and a seat at the same ADL dinner table as Mel Gibson.

For Keith Richards: An intelligible sentence.

For Bob Dylan: An intelligible syllable.

For Kevin Federline: An intelligible thought.

For Paris Hilton: An explanation of what "intelligible" means, along with a lobotomy (her second).

For Martin Scorsese: An Oscar. Because no one deserves it more.

For Nancy Grace: A mirror that reflects shame.

For Tom Cruise: Marital bliss, or the Scientological equivalent.

For Katie Holmes: A way out.

For Sacha Baron Cohen: A clear and honest release form.

For Rush Limbaugh: Some of those drugs that help Michael J. Fox shake so much, because it sure looks like he's having fun.

For Michael J. Fox: Relief from the rebellious forces that have seized control of his body — and ultimately, a cure.

For Jerry Bruckheimer: A couple of quarters to rub together so the poor guy can afford a cup of coffee.

For Rosie O'Donnell: An opinion or two. Would it kill the woman to stand for something, for cryin' out loud?

For Keith Olbermann: An ongoing dance with the spirit of Edward R. Murrow.

For Bill O'Reilly: More appearances with David Letterman where he gets his butt handed to him on a platter.

For M. Night Shyamalan: A comedy. (Oh wait, that's right, he already did "Lady in the Water.")

For George Clooney: A blog post to call his own.