Pay attention. We're in the Christmas season now, a time of dangerous tradition. No other time of year -- including July, which we celebrate with explosives -- is riskier than the Lord's birthday.

Christmas has many dangerous traditions, not the least of which are roof lights, the roof, loan shark credit card rates, eggnog, and dragging a pine tree into the house without first checking to see if it contains a highly flammable squirrel.

But the most dangerous Yule rule will always be the one involving a poisonous plant. I have no idea why peyote is illegal and mistletoe is openly sold in grocery stores.

Mistletoe is a small, parasitic plant, with evergreen leaves and pale berries, that, when hung above a doorway, is an open invitation to kiss anyone standing below it.

Legend claims the tradition began because of mistletoe's reputation as a symbol of fertility. Another says truces between warring tribes could be struck beneath the mistletoe.

Given that mistletoe is poisonous, it would make for a poor aphrodisiac. And every war from the Peloponnesian to this one proves that the truce part is a big fat lie.

No one really knows how the Christmas tradition of kissing beneath the mistletoe began. What we do know is that the baby Jesus did not start it. That was myrrh the wise men brought.

The tradition most probably began during an ancient Greek or Celtic office party. Why it began is a mystery because the jerk who thought it up was almost immediately killed by the husband of the most attractive woman at the party.

The custom endured and is still practiced today by unwary and the desperate. People hoping to be kissed will intentionally stand below a sprig of mistletoe, sometimes for hours.

Lip action predators actually carry clumps of mistletoe with them, which they then dangle over the heads of their victims just before battening onto them like giant leeches.

Fortunately, it's possible to profile mistletoe predators. An inability to hold their liquor is a good sign. Also, watch for any older female family member sporting an overabundance of lipstick, perfume and chin hair.

At one memorable family Christmas party, I watched an enraged uncle cram a wad of mistletoe down the back of another's pants. Despite what my mother said later, it wasn't for medicinal purposes. I was old enough to know that you didn't need the cops for that.

Getting kissed beneath the mistletoe is not always bad. It's happened to me twice. The first was by an older neighbor girl the Christmas I was 12. The other was by my wife. In both cases it was New Year's before I could think straight again.

These days, most mistletoe is imitation. You can still get the real -- stuff but be careful. Our most memorable mistletoe tradition is the Christmas we took our 2-year-old daughter to the emergency room and had her stomach pumped.

rkirby@sltrib. com