I Dearly Adore and Love Christmas.
Crap hanging from the faux fireplace with joy (or the polyester tree covered with artificial snow that causes cancer in warthogs) as children scamper about all happy and unconcerned. I love when they gather 'round the fireplace and listen as I recount the true story of Christmas.
Not the CIA redacted lies and fluff fed to you all of your life and spread by Christmas books, your parents, and fat men in the mall claiming to be Santa (yeah, right) but the darker side.
Like Gary Truedeau, I know things that they do not want you to know about.
I love the Egg Nog with extra nog and less egg, and a tad more alcohol or spirits with a little extra alcohol and no eggs, nogs, or whatnots.
Rum cakes aplenty and the Bourbon Chocolates that leave me well-lit and hanging from the ‘Christmas tree or chimney with care hoping that St. Nick will soon be there’ to cut me down. We usually get drunk together and sing “Danny Boy” as we go through the Christmas cards and letters looking for cash and hopefully, iTunes Gift Cards.
My cut is about $234,000 per year and it is tax-free. Santa helps because he knows I still have the negatives. Besides, we need the cash. Do you really think Reindeer Scooby-Snacks are cheap?
Besides, most reindeer snacks give Prancer, Dancer, Bieber, and Kardashian the runs, so I must special order them from the vet. That is why you might notice the stains on your rooftop. They are caused by feeding the reindeer fatty snacks.
I love traveling over the river and through gang territory past occupied Wall Street, to my drunken grandmother's house we go. "A Very Merry Justin Bieber Chanukah" playing on granny’s Victrola.
I love the Christmas fighting and family smack downs; the undercooked turkey dinner, an 85 year old Aunt Martha trying to get me under the missile tow to do unspeakable things, and sitting by the fire, praying for the flames to ‘just take me now.’
I tell a fat little greedy and ever so hated niece, “Yes, Santa will bring you a pony, little Rapunzel, but if it is not there in the morning, it is because your mom chased it away and it was eaten by the Grinch.”
By the way, the Grinch not only steals Christmas; he also eats souls. If you invite him over, he will never put the seat down and he misses the bowl on purpose. He also goes through your medicine cabinet. Just so you all know, there is far more to the story than Dr. Seuss told you.
Did you know that Santa hires elves but they are forced to work for minimum wage? Santa owns a vast factory nobody can find. Makes me wonder about working conditions at Santa’s sweatshop. Although, it is not as if an Elf can find a job elsewhere and who really cares, anyway.
Santa grows replacement elfs in a vast underground hydroponic elf factory, using DNA he harvests from the hair follicles of bad little boys and girls.
Santa makes iPads, Huffy bikes, laptops, Kenmore washing machines, flat screen televisions, Pez dispensers, Red Ball Keds, American Flyers, Red Ryder BB Guns, athletic supporters, baseballs, Lady Ga Ga’s wardrob and men’s underwear. He prints books, copies and duplicates music CDs and DVDs, and he does so without concern over the artist’s IP rights or royalties. Santa violates IP on a vast scale.
He conducts business across state lines and he does not have a business license. I know his factory is vast yet he does not buy carbon credits. I have never heard him say he pays taxes or the required fees to conduct business in other states and that makes me wonder about Santa’s true power.
Try suing Santa in federal court and the authorities will not allow it because they tell us Santa does not exist. He is on postage stamps and coke bottles for God’s sake. As children, we were told about Santa; indeed, we were threatened and told Santa will not come if we are bad kids.
Obviously, he has important people in his pocket. The North Pole is where Bush’s Weapons of Mass Destruction are hiding, by the way.
I cannot tell you more, or Santa, well, he knows stuff like when I have been bad or good and he knows when I am sleeping, too.
Fa La La La La . . . La La, La, La. Merry Christmas.
