A Christmas Story

My son has his first job and, as of a few weeks ago, his first apartment. He’s living in a complex that is inhabited largely by Somali immigrants. He told me this story yesterday.
On Monday he got up and got ready for work. He left his apartment building and, as he started walking toward his car, noticed that there was a vehicle parked next to it with its motor running and people inside. As he got closer, he saw that there were four Somali men inside the parked car. That seemed a bit odd.
He continued on to his car, unlocked the door and began brushing snow off his windshield. As he did so, two of the Somalis got out of their vehicle and started walking toward him. He wasn’t alarmed, but wondered what was going on. He started thinking self-defense, calculating odds and angles. The men walked right up to his car. They reached into their pockets.
They pulled out ice scrapers, scraped off his windshield, said “Merry Christmas!” and returned to their vehicle.
Heh. That’s my favorite bit of Christmas spirit this year, and it came from a couple of guys who presumably are Muslims. So: Merry Christmas to all. And I do mean all!

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