The Grinch doesn't bother with petty crimes like stealing presents and candy canes from Whoville anymore. He's graduated to ''Grand Theft, Christmas,'' and he has the perfect inside job to pull it off: Headline writer.
Here's a sample of his latest work, gathered from our news wires on one Grinchy Monday morning:
It's a Grim 'Toy Story' For Third-World Toy Laborers.
Disney Film May Breed 1001 Unwanted Dalmatians.
Barbie Dolls: What Every Woman Should Be?
The Ghost of Christmas Depression.
Coal-stocking stories like those are as predictable as malls decked with holly before Halloween. They are what some journalists cook up because they can't send out fruitcakes to make you feel guilty if you throw them away, or sick if you take a bite.
I'm sure it's very important to know if ''Tickle Me Elmo'' was raised on a Dalmatian puppy farm that exploits depressed Barbies. But do we need to know it RIGHT NOW? Can't it wait until Jan. 1, with all those stories about disasters and crimes of 1996?
Nope. Come home after a grueling day of Christmas shopping, put your VISA on ice to cool, flip on the news, and what to my wondering eyes should appear? ''Bankruptcies up 30 percent, caused by reckless credit-card debt ... ''
My antidote is a healthy dose of Grinch-repellent - warm Christmas-candle stories about people who keep their faith lit no matter what ill winds are blowing around them.
People like Cathy Cornelius, whose son Brandon, 15, was assaulted last May during a neighborhood basketball game. Brandon suffered a skull fracture, traumatic brain injuries, profound hearing loss and memory loss after he was hit in the head with a four-by-four piece of lumber by Dwight M. Davis, 26.
''I'm not trying to start a big crusade or change the world,'' Mrs. Cornelius told me last spring. ''I just think this guy should be noticed, He should not be on the street. He could have killed someone, He almost killed Brandon.''
Mrs. Davis got her wish: Dwight Davis was noticed. So was his record for a crack-trafficking arrest. In September, he was sentenced to eight-to-15 years for felonious assault on Brandon Cornelius.
People like James and Charlotte Slemp, who have never given up hope that their daughter, Debbie Hill, will somehow be paroled from prison, where she has served nearly two years now for shooting a former boyfriend who stalked her and terrorized her and her son.
The yellow ribbons tied to trees in the Slemps' front yard are getting a little dog-eared and weather-frayed. But Mrs. Slemp's faith shines on like the tiny yellow ribbons she uses to decorate their Christmas tree.
Maybe in 1997 the parole board will reconsider and have a heart - and release a woman who was pushed over the brink to kill a deranged stalker before he could kill her or her son.
And people like Joe Daly, who turned unimaginable heartbreak into hope and made Ohio recognize an unborn child as a real person who deserves protection of the law.
In August 1994, Mr. Daly's wife, Suzanne, 27, was killed on I-275 one morning when her car was hit head-on by another car driven at nearly 100 miles per hour by Krystal White, 16.
Miss White, driving a stolen car on a revoked license - after being warned by the courts to stop driving before she killed someone - was uninjured. But Mrs. Daly, who was 8 1/2-months pregnant, was killed, along with the Daly's unborn son, Austin.
When Joe Daly discovered that his son didn't count because the law said he was not a person, he went to work to change it. He testified in the Ohio General Assembly. He sent out 90,000 postcards to supporters. And when he was finished, even the governor shed a tear as he signed the ''viable fetus'' law that gives unborn children legal protection from assault and homicide.
''It took nine months,'' Mr. Daly said. ''How ironic is that?''
Since then, ''There have been six or seven cases that used the law,'' he said. ''It made me realize that this is nothing new. And I realized, 'My God, how long has this been going on?''
Krystal White was released after serving about a year. ''That's definitely over for me,'' Mr. Daly said. ''A year, 10 years or 100 years - nothing can bring them back. You know what I wanted. I wanted to take my little boy to church or a ballgame and bounce him on my knee and have Suzanne there beside us. But that's unobtainable.''
So he did the next best thing. ''My son made a point. He did change the law. The state may not recognize him as a person, but he will be there in the history book.''
This year, Mr. Daly put up a Christmas tree again for the first time since 1994. He said the ornaments they once shared make him feel like Suzanne is there with him this year, helping him get past all the heartbreak.
The Ghost of Christmas Depression?
Bah, humbug.
''The tree is up and decorated,'' Joe Daly says along with the rest of us. ''I'm happy.''
Peter Bronson is editorial page editor of The Enquirer. Call 768-8301, or write to 312 Elm Street, Cincinnati, Ohio 45202.
