Because Nothing Says Christmas Like Cthulhu

Large, soft flakes of snow are spiralling slowly to the ground, the Christmas tree is lit, and in the kitchen, Lord Branwyn is baking pizzelles and listening to an audiobook of At the Mountains of Madness by H.P. Lovecraft. Because nothing says "Merry Christmas" like the Cthulhu mythos.
On Wednesday, I drove to the Pittsburgh IKEA to meet with an old friend. We had lunch in the funky restaurant then wandered around the store, by turns marvelling and laughing at the merchandise. We both went home with snowflake-shaped Christmas lights. It was almost worth buying these lights for the instructions alone--

"Electric lamps are much safer than candles, go electric, no candles on your tree or anywhere near it. You may know they are just for show but someone else during the festivities might think lighting the candles is a great idea. Go electric.
Have you got young people in the house? Have you got a working smoke alarm? Have you tested it? Go-on, do it now, you know it makes sense. Then go and buy a battery, it is so very necessary for a happy Holiday. First the smoke alarm, then the fancy decorations!"

Thank you, Mother IKEA!