JAMES LILEKS:

Maybe it’s just me. Perhaps I’m overly sensitive. But when I wish a store clerk “Merry Christmas!” they often appear stunned and flummoxed for a moment, as if I’ve just blabbed the plans for the underground’s sabotage of the train tracks in front of the secret police. I’ve said something highly inappropriate for the public square, and I almost expect a security guard to take me aside on the way out. . . .

I don’t get it. There’s this peculiar fear of Christmas that seems to get stronger every year, as if it’s the season that dare not speak its name. Check out the U.S. Postal Service Web site: two different stamps for Kwanzaa. One for Eid, two for Hanukkah. Two for non-sectarian “Holiday,” with pictures of Santa, reindeer, ornaments, that sort of thing. One for the Chinese New Year. One for those religiously inclined — it features a Madonna and Child. But the Web site calls it “Holiday Traditional.” The word “Christmas” doesn’t appear on the site’s description of the stamps. Eid, yes. Hanukkah, yes. Kwanzaa, yes. Christmas? No. It’s Holiday Traditional.

I’ve noticed the same thing.