“Hold it!” you shout, freezing them in their tracks. “I have a tape recorder here, and unless somebody lets me make my holiday purchases, I’m going to play ‘Frosty the Snowman.’”

Cruel? Inhuman? Perhaps. But you have no choice. Because this is the holiday season, and you have to buy thoughtful gifts for all of your Loved Ones, or they will hate you. Here are some helpful suggestions:

GIFTS FOR CHILDREN: To find out what children want this year, I naturally called up the headquarters of the Toys Backward ‘R’ Us Corporation, which as you parents know is now larger than the Soviet Union. I talked with a spokesperson who told me that last year the corporation’s net sales were $2.4

billion (I assume she meant in my immediate neighborhood).

The spokesperson told me that one of the hot toys for boys this year, once again, is the G.I. Joe action figure and accessories,” which is the toy-industry code Word for “guns,” as in: “Don’t nobody move! I got an accessory!” The little boy on your list can have hours of carefree childhood fun with this G.I. Joe set, engaging in realistic armed-forces adventures such as having G.I. Joe explain to little balding congressional committee figures how come he had to use his optional Action Shredder accessory.

Another hot item is Captain Power and the Soldiers of the Future, a toy system that—here is a coencidence for you—is featured on a Saturday-morning TV show. The heart of this system is an electronic accessory that the child shoots at the TV screen to actually kill members of the Bio Dread Empire. The spokesperson did not say whether it also would work on Geraldo Rivera.

For little girls, the toy industry is once again going way out on a limb and offering a vast simpering array of dolls. The big news this year, however, is that many of these dolls have computer chips inside them, so they can do the same things that a real baby would do if it had a computer chip inside it. Some dolls even respond according to the time of day. In the morning, they say: “I’m hungry!” In the evening, they say: “I’m sleepy!” And late at night, when the house is dark and quiet, they whisper into the child’s ear: “I think I hear Mr. Eyeball Plucker in the closet again!”

GIFTS FOR GROWN-UPS: I don’t want to get too corny here, but I think the nicest gift you can give a grown-up, especially one you really care about, is not something you buy in a store. In fact, it costs nothing, yet it is a very precious gift, and one that only you can give. I’m talking about your parking space.

Hey Babe Hum Babe Hum Babe Hey ...

The crack of the bat ... the roar of the crowd ... the sight of slug-shaped, saliva-drenched gobs of tobacco seeping into the turf and causing mutations among soil-based life forms. ...

Baseball. For me, it’s as much a part of summer as sitting bolt upright in bed at 3:30 A.M. and trying to remember if I filed for an extension on my tax return. And the memories baseball season brings back! Ebbetts Field, for example. That’s all I remember: Ebbetts Field. What the hell does it mean? Is it anything important? Maybe one of you readers can help.

Why does baseball hold such great appeal for Americans? A big factor, of course, is that the Russians can’t play it. Try as they might, they can’t seem to master infield chatter, which is what the members of the infield constantly yell at the pitcher. A typical segment of infield chatter would be:

Hey babe hum babe hum babe hey no batter hey fire that ball hum that pellet whip that hose baby sling that sphere c’mon heave that horsehide right in there c’mon dammit we’re bored we’re really bored bored bored bored out here hunched over in these cretin pants c’mon let’s fling that orb let’s unload that globe you sum-bitch let’s THROW that ball please for God’s sake let’s ...

The infield’s purpose in chattering at the pitcher like this is to get him so irritated that he deliberately throws the ball at the batter’s face, which minimizes the danger that the batter will swing and thus put the infield in the position of having to stand in the path of a potentially lethal batted ball. American boys learn infield chatter as very young children, but the Russians have tremendous trouble with it. The best they’ve been able to do so far is “Holy mackerel, you are putting forth some likely shots now, ho ho!” which is pretty good for only five years’ effort, but hardly the level of chatter they’ll need in international competition.

Another reason why Americans are Number One in baseball is the phrases yelled by fans to encourage the players. American fans generally use the three basic phrases:

Boo. You stink. You really stink, you stupid jerk.

These phrases of encouragement have dominated baseball since the 1920s, when the great George Herman Ruth made baseball history at Yankee Stadium by pointing his bat at the stands and correctly identifying them in only four attempts. But in recent years, a large cold-air mass of change has begun to form in the North, where fans of the Montreal Expos, who all know how to speak French because there’s nothing else to do in Canada after 4 P.m., have developed some new and very competitive phrases, such as:

–Vous bumme, il y a un poisson dans votre bibliotheque. (You bum, there is a fish in your library.) —Boux. (Boo.)

Thus encouraged, the Expos have become a baseball Powerhouse. They probably would have won the World Series by now except that the players refuse to return from spring training until Labor Day.

So the United States is still the best, and you can bet the mortgage that the World Series, which is open to any city in the world that has a major-league franchise, will this year be won once again by a team consisting of U.S. citizens plus maybe two dozen guys named Julio from friendly spider-infested nations to the south. In fact, the only real problem facing major-league baseball at the moment is that everybody associated with it in any way is a drug addict. This is beginning to affect the quality of the game:

ANNOUNCER: For those viewers who are just joining us, the game has been delayed slightly because the umpires really wanted some nachos, and also the Yankees keep turning into giant birds. I can’t remember seeing that happen before in a regular season game, can you, Bob? COLOR COMMENTATOR (shrieking): THESE aren’t my crayons!

So baseball has problems. So who doesn’t? It’s still a very national pastime, and I for one always feel a stirring of tremendous excitement as we approach the All-Star Game. I’m assuming here that we haven’t already passed the All-Star Game.

What I like about the All-Star Game is that the teams aren’t picked by a bunch of experts who use computers and care only about cold statistics—what a player’s batting average is, how well he throws, whether he’s still alive, etc. No, the All-Star teams are chosen by the fans, the everyday folks who sit out in the hot sun hour after hour, cursing and swilling beer that tastes like it has been used to launder jockstraps. The fans don’t care about statistics: They vote from the heart, which is why last year’s starting American League lineup included Lou Gehrig, O.J. Simpson, and Phil Donahue.

And what lies ahead, after the All-Star break? I look for several very tight pennant races, with many games ending in scores of 4-2, 5-1, and in certain instances 2-0. In the National League, I think we’ll see a sharp late-season increase in the number of commercials wherein players employ inappropriate baseball imagery, such as, “Hit a home run against nasal discharge.” And in the American League, I look for Dave Winfield to be attacked by seagulls. As always, pitching will be the key.