Secret Santanas

OK, Nancy. It's less than a week until D day, and you still haven't twitched a butt muscle to find the perfect gift for Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza or [INSERT YOUR HOLIDAY HERE]. Yes, the holidays are a scam to bilk working folks out of hard-earned cash for things none of us really requires. Sure, all that money would be better spent on solving hunger in third-world countries or making me slippers from the hides of small Peruvian children. But we're selfish people. Fat, happy and insatiable. Live with it. Plus, if you're going to sell your soul to holiday commercialization and support rampant materialism and fiscal irresponsibility, you might as well give the music fans on your list something they actually want and very possibly need to survive. Like a Grateful Dead bar stool or a Clay Aiken punching bag.

Too Much Joy Bootlegs
We were eighteen, drunk, promising, pissed and not above lying to girls, and Too Much Joy was the band we loved when the world couldn't give a shit about it. God knows what became of us -- some are mathematicians, some are carpenter's wives -- but what hasn't changed and will never change is that this world spins without regard to our favorite bands. You're forgiven for not knowing the Joy. Its catalog has been out of print for years, and even though the beer songs and Cool J covers of the band's early career gave way to Chekhovian, Who-like punk, it's the jokey stuff people remember (or don't remember). But this ignores the flat-out rawk of Joy's live shows, three of which are available as a set for just $15 plus shipping. There's no packaging, no track lists, and the handwriting on the CD-Rs is horrible, but the discs are packed with killer tunes, sloppy singing and stupid-funny banter. One of the shows was recorded on a Walkman and is unlistenable, but that doesn't matter. The '91 date scorches with all the cheek and conviction of kids convinced they're about to make it; their bruised-but-still-kicking '96 iteration hits even harder, not because Joy's making a dime off it but because that's what great drunken bands do. Whatever your favorite bands were, you were probably right. It's this world that blows. Smash a glass.
Sayhername.com, $15

Warm Wishes
Tuckered out after a long, hard day of jingoism? Catch a sniffle burying Dixie Chicks albums in the snow? Want to curl up next to a crackling fire for a romantic evening of watching NASCAR and crushing Miller High Life cans on your forehead? Then wrap up you and yours in your very own Toby Keith afghan tapestry. This embroidered freedom blanket measures 36 inches by 52 inches and features an enormous portrait of the country crooner who happily cheered on the bombing of Afghanistan. (Man, we lit up your world like the Fourth of July ... We'll put a boot in your ass, it's the American way -- ring any air-raid sirens for ya?) The irony sells itself.
Tobykeith.com, $45

The Knack is Calling
Order a holiday greeting from a one-hit wonder, and make the season a little brighter for a no-hit friend. That is the genius of Hollywood Is Calling, which can put Doug Fieger, frontman for the Knack (of “My Sharona” fame), live at the other end of the telephone line to deliver some good tidings for the paltry sum of $19.95, now officially the price of D-list fame. “Hi, this is Doug Fieger from the Knack,” the warm, fuzzy phoner will begin. “I’m calling to wish [insert your friend’s name here] a merry Christmas to you and your loved ones. Most important, I’d like to wish you the best of luck in the pursuit of all your dreams and wishes for the coming year. Thanks and take care.” Other quote-unquote celebrities available include Ron Palillo and the Barbi twins, though anybody ordering a ring for heckling purposes should be warned not only that calls time out at thirty seconds (so only stealth zingers will fly) but also that such activities will squarely secure a spot on the naughty list. Mr. Fieger and company have better things to do than deal with would-be pranksters, like playing poker with Colin Hay and Rockwell.
Hollywoodiscalling.com, $19.95

Tel Aviv Rock City
All those gentiles and their Christmas cheer got you feeling fercockt, but you're too nice to kvetch? Well, we have something that'll spin your dreidel: not one, not two, but three tomes that give big ups to the chosen people and prove once and for all that plenty of Promised Land peeps rock the synagogue. And no, we're not talking about Adam Sandler's "Hanukkah Song." No schmaltz, either. These are actual Jewish rock stars chronicled in actual Jewish rock star books. Namely, Jews Who Rock, by Guy Oseary, with a foreword by Ben Stiller and an afterword by Perry (Peretz) Farrell (Bernstein); Rock 'N' Roll Jews, by Michael Billig; and Stars of David: Rock 'N' Roll's Jewish Stories, by Scott Benarde. You'll blow out the menorah screaming "Mazel tov!" after rejoicing through page after page of tales about David Lee Roth, Saul "Slash" Hudson, Gene "Chaim Witz" Simmons, Paul Simon, Billy Joel, Kenny G (Gorelick), Warren Zevon, members of the Doors, Beastie Boys, Foo Fighters, Megadeth and more rockin' Jews than you could shake a yarmulke at. I think I'm getting verklempt.
Amazon.com, Powells.com, $2.75-$29.95