On the Second Day of Christmas ...

No, Carmen, you didn't.

And be careful what you wish for anyway.

It seems odd to be coming back from a day that was not only full of three-dimensional real-world distractions but in which even Facebook, that repository of confrontational misinformation, had turned for the moment into family photos and warmth.

It was a pleasant respite, but coffee break's over.

Still, we can mark the season a little more, if not for the full 12 days at least long enough for this: Sean Stephane Martin noted on the aforementioned Facebook that, in the various cinematic versions of "A Christmas Carol," the lonely misery of Scrooge's life is often secondary to his love of money, despite the fact that the two are firmly linked by Dickens.

To which I responded that I thought it was odd that, of all the retellings, it was Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol that most captured that point, "odd" because, of all the versions, it's certainly the cheesiest, with cheap animation and songs far short of Lerner & Lowe or Rogers & Hammerstein.

But it did indeed make the point, not only with that piece, but, later, with the greed of the people who came to Scrooge's (projected) death bed to strip it of his earthly goods.

Which suggests that perhaps the Scrooge/Trump cartoons we've seen in the last two weeks might better be exemplified not in the cruelties of the tax reform and the harsh indifference to suffering, but rather by that humiliating vote in the UN on the Jerusalem question, in which the world stood up against the bizarre threats mocked in this Clay Jones cartoon and demonstrated that, indeed, we're all alone in the world.

I suppose the optimistic approach would be to remember that Scrooge's nephew wanted to invite him back into the family, and Bob Cratchit at least blessed him as the provider of the meager feast his family could enjoy, despite, in both cases, objections from others who refused to credit the hateful old miser with anything.

I'm willing to pity Donald Trump, packed off to boarding school by a family that had given up on him, but, then again, it is possible to feel compassion for someone without condoning the damage they do, and let's put Samuel Johnson's famous quote into more context than it is usually given:

Murray: 'It seems to me that we are not angry at a man for controverting an opinion which we believe and value; we rather pity him.'

Johnson: 'Why, Sir; to be sure when you wish a man to have that belief which you think is of infinite advantage, you wish well to him; but your primary consideration is your own quiet. If a madman were to come into this room with a stick in his hand, no doubt we should pity the state of his mind; but our primary consideration would be to take care of ourselves. We should knock him down first, and pity him afterwards."

The problem being that Trump is in a position to do actual, not just theoretical and annoying, damage.

But it's comforting to know that the world, which began this year looking at us with curiosity only slightly mingled with horror, has not been seduced and is willing to let steadier hands take the tiller, despite the boastful, hostile threats of the former captain.

And, as said here before, the challenge is not to convert the Deplorables, who are True Believers and will never change, but to awaken the moderates who have been heretofore willing to let others carry the load.

In which effort I turn to this collection of tips, for which Matt Wuerker rounded up Pat Bagley, Barry Blitt, David Horsey, Kal Kallaugher, Mike Lester, Ann Telnaes and Signe Wilkinson to explain how they draw the President.

Now for a little post-holiday clean-up:

Agnes managed to score at Christmas, within her modest means.

It takes a deft touch to keep us laughing at Agnes and Trout: If their lives were any more pitiful, the strip would turn into Little Orphan Annie, while, if they had anything more in the world, it would simply be Lucy and Ethel.

There was never a real explanation for Lucy's desire to be famous or her chasing after celebrities, and we simply accepted her as a loveable eccentric, but Agnes really has a hole that she needs to climb out of, which adds significantly to the appeal of the feature.

But if you need a Scrooge to laugh at, there's always Stan at Pros & Cons, whose well of compassion could be emptied with an eyedropper.

Cops, firefighters, nurses and reporters work on Christmas, and I always hoped for no real news: No serious crimes or housefires or accidents. The challenge was to fulfill the mandatory "Who's working on Christmas?" story assignment with human interest or perhaps something amusing.

In this case, perhaps amusing only to half the parties.

I like Brewster Rockit's take on 2017, mostly because the Fidget Spinner coverage itself was not unlike a satire, as feature writers desperately sought to find an angle other than "Hey, lookit that!"

So we had stories about teachers having to prohibit them in class, which punched the "Threat to Society" ticket, and then some kid old enough to know better took one apart and swallowed a piece, which became "Fidget Spinners Could Kill Your Child," either a truly fine story or something to get the features editor off your back, depending on your sense of professional pride.

(Brewster here hits on the only assignment more miserable than fad coverage: The dreaded year-end roundup.)

Welcome back, Ted

Finally, some nice holiday news: Ted Forth has recovered from the death of his father (which was very well-done, by the way) and is once more a loveable doofus.