Another Great Moment in Boxing History

As I Underhand It, today is the day they call “Boxing Day,” “they” being those clever insufferables who insist on calling a day something other than what it is, which is the bloody day after Christmas. They are the ones responsible for such balderdashery as “Read In The Bathtub Day” (February 9) or “Toast A Marshmallow Day” (August 30) or “Drop Your Trousers And Adjust Your Nutsack Day” (every day, thrice daily, according to my calendar). I’ve no idea what in blue blazers “Boxing Day” signifies, but if I were to posit, I’d say ‘tis the day that citizens declare they’ve had well enough of the eating, drinking and merrily withdrawing every last dollar from their bank accounts and, accordingly, are looking to box someone’s ears at the slightest provocation—like, say, when you’re returning an unopened purchase at a retailer and the dimwitted holiday hire asks, “Is there anything wrong with it?” or when a visiting relation—say, a fat-arsed brother-in-law—settles in for an afternoon in front of the telly in your favorite recliner, even though you’ve expressly directed him to the side chair ‘cross the room for his endless sit-downs. Minor offenses, perhaps, but after a month of Burl Ives warbling ‘bout holly-jolly this-or- that, ‘tis a wonder more otherwise even-tempered citizens don’t come to blows. Then again, maybe “Boxing Day” is the day that recognizes pugilists throughout history—bare-knuckled brawlers, gloved legends or rope-a doping best friends—or, as I think of it, perhaps it celebrates “Boxing Helena”—a prurient piece of cinema featuring a fulsome-hipped-and-lipped Sherilynn Fenn getting her limbs removed by stringy haired whack job Julian Sands—which your brother-in- law winds up watching with inappropriate curiosity from the comfort of your good chair. Who could bloody blame you if you issued him a proper pummeling—which is to say, boxing—on this day?