This whole Christmas thing is out of control. You want to know what my dad and his brothers woke up to on Christmas morning? Of course you do, you’re still reading. They woke up to a new pair of blue jeans, plastic six-shooters, and a piece of fruit. This was the usual for most of his childhood Christmas mornings. DHR would probably take your children away if you did this now.
You know who’s responsible for this? Jolly Old Saint Nicholas. Yep, the jolly (kidspeak for alcoholic) old fat man himself. You see, this all started in the mid-1900’s when Saint Nicholas, or “Santa” as we know him, decided to turn up the heat on consumerism and therefore solidify his place in our culture for decades to come. Santa is smart like that. During my father’s childhood, Santa catered to the values of “The Greatest Generation.” You know, the men who went off to fight wars and watch their brothers and comrades-in-arms die for the sake of their country. Santa knew that with this war-hardened generation, just recovering from the Great Depression, too many luxuries could spell his demise.
So, the corrupt and conniving owner of North Pole sweatshops played it safe. Have the elves grow some fruit, make some cheap toy cowboy pistols and sew denim. Then, gradually outsource Christmas and phase in a consumerist mindset. By the time deregulation began we were primed for Operation Consumer Christmas Overload, Phase I. Behind the scenes, the drug fueled, free-love culture of the 60’s and 70’s had taken its toll on the elf labor pool and set the stage for this secret plan. You see, elves were now needed for hallucinations, shopping malls and wrestling (yes, they used elves for midget wrestling). So, consumer-minded, profit greedy, slave-driver Santa, contracted his elves to other companies, in the name of higher margins. He then leaned heavily and directly on the toy companies to meet his gift-giving demands.
It seemed like a win-win for all. More toys, happier kids (at least on Christmas morning) and a greater appreciation for the overlooked elf populace and their talents. That is, until enough brains were fried, everyone learned love is in fact never free, nor is VD; and consequently, we were all left with a bunch of lazy liberals who really didn’t want to work too hard, rather, they chose to sit back, deny God, blame “the man” and promote socialist policies that benefit those with a lack of motivation. All this while mumbling peace, holding up two fingers and driving cars named after insects. Everything according to plan.
Now, what was Santa left to do? How was he possibly going to continue breaking and entering, sexually assaulting childrens’ mothers, that would then be glorified in songs sung by said children, while continuing to profit from his slave labor back in the North Pole sweatshop? Piece by piece.
You guessed it. More stuff. Not just that, but he also decided to play up his role in childhood development and behavior. He knows who’s “naughty and nice”. The creep even sees you when you’re sleeping. So kids, if you’re bad, Santa will bring you lumps of coal or bundles of switches. Problem solved. Kids are lured into falsely modified behavior in order to gain reward, with no regard for the moral principles that should in fact promote and bind them to said positive behaviors.
Elf on the Shelf? More of the same. Capitalist Santa at his best. Just another way to manipulate bratty, spoiled children into behaving so we don’t actually have to do any, you know, parenting that prevents these brats from becoming egotistical, narcissistic adults who raise an even worse generation and spend even less time actually parenting them.
You see what happens when you outsource Christmas? You see what happens when it’s all about an alcoholic, obese, peeping tom creeper who abuses reindeer (where’s Sara McLaughlin and her ASPCA commercial for that?) breaks into peoples’ homes, eats all their snacks, cops a feel of some kids mother (no wonder we have a single mother epidemic, bet he’s behind that too!) and drops off some Chinese toys, outsourced to the lowest bidder and marketed with millions of dollars, in order to create this Christmas demand frenzy?
Wake up people. Santa sucks! Enjoy your families. Enjoy good food. Enjoy your friends. Most importantly, celebrate the reason for the season, Jesus. I’m not sure if Jesus ever met Santa, as,by most estimates, they missed each other by about 500 years. But I wish he would have. I really believe, if Santa had been given the same revelation as the apostle Paul, all of this could have been avoided.
Lastly, I need to be transparent. Although Santa never once visited me as a child, I hold no ill-will. I’m not bitter. No big deal, Santa. Yes, I may have snuck out of my bed on Christmas Eveand made sure the door was unlocked, since we had no chimney. Just in case. I mean, I didn’t want to be the kind of person Santa proved to be. A liar! I was good (rarely, but I know worse kids that did get presents) and I believed, and you never came!
Whew. Now that I got that out… I forgive you dad. I’m sorry that Santa’s gifts of fruit and denim left you with a gaping hole of unbelief. Although your reasons for no Santa certainly had merit. It is true that Jesus’ birth date is never mentioned in the Bible. It also makes sense that if God had wanted us to know, he’d have told us. It’s even more rational to say, that if in fact we were going to celebrate Christmas, we’d specifically seek out the orphan and the widow because giving gifts to them is giving to Christ. I get the whole pagan holiday thing, now that I’ve researched it for myself. So, perhaps you were right.
But you know what happens to kids who know the truth about Santa from the beginning? They sit on your shoulders and excitedly and loudly proclaim, “See Dad! I told you he was real!” at the Disney Christmas parade while all the people around you stare at you like a pariah. It’s okay, stick to your guns man! I’ll just sneak up to my grandmothers and pocket some cash and years later, pen a passive-aggressive blog to lash out.
Santa, if you’re reading this, I forgive you too. Let’s make amends. You can begin making up for all the formative years of crushed spirits by bringing me a log cabin on a piece of land in the mountains with a crackling fire and a bear rug; or, if you’re into aviation, I’ll take a KingAir 350, because unlike you, I’m not self-absorbed enough to ask for something crazy like a G6. What’s that Santa? Sounds to you like an entitlement mentality? Well, it’s all your fault.
P.S.- Santa, please tell me there is no glitter in the North Pole?
P.P.S – I noticed your name shares the same letters as Satan. How you answer that last question will clarify which side you’re really on.