Santa. This is for idiots.
“You know what I would like to do? Work really hard and really save cash for three months, get my kids some really meaningful gifts that represent a whole lot of work, work that I was willing to do for them, and then give all the credit to an imaginary man who breaks into our home every year.”
Why do we need this guy? We don’t have Spooky Steve the Halloween Skeleton, or Turkey Ted, the Thanksgiving Turkey. Okay, we have the Easter Bunny, but as far as I’m concerned that story is so fucked up that I consider the bunny to be a chocolate bar come to life and that’s it.
Are we just trying to see if our kids are really that dumb year after year, wondering with tears in our eyes when the hell they are going to pick up one of the 40,000 clues to the fact that a fat man in a bright red suit in a sleigh pulled by animals that can’t fly, who travels around the entire world in one night, who has never ever been spotted in the act by anyone ever, who never seems to leave coal to anyone, even kids in juvenile hall, can’t possibly be real?
The thing is, Santa is a throwback who never works anymore because we aren’t getting brandless wooden trains or wooden cars with no price tags.
You know what nobody could ever explain to me as a kid? How is it that Santa makes a Sega Genesis and doesn’t get his balls sued off? Seriously, if I invented a device that was not only exactly like Sega Genesis, but even ripped off its branding and packaging, I think there would be some issues.
And if someone makes another movie where Santa is a real fucking guy who teaches us the meaning of Christmas, I’m going to lose my fucking shit.
There’s a card sitting in front of me for a Santa for Hire. You pay this dude and he comes riding over to your house to visit on Christmas Eve. That’s the fucking start of a horror/home invasion movie. What would be an easier way to get invited into a stranger’s house?
“Okay. I’ll make out the check to…”
“Oh, uh, I only go by Santa. So cash is better.”
“Okay. And do you need anything? Cookies and milk?”
“Yes. And about 25 feet of strong rope.”
Last, there’s nothing worse than going to some work function or a restaurant and a fucking Santa shows up. You just know he’s going to walk over to where you’re sitting, make a HILARIOUS joke about you being naughty this year, and then move on. Santas are the only thing worse than the goddamn mariachis who bother you at a Mexican restaurant on a Friday night, singing at the top of their lungs eight inches from your table while you’re just trying to talk and hang out. C’mon fuckos, I don’t come to your concerts and get right on your elbow onstage and eat a plate of enchiladas, so don’t do put me in that situation, assholes.
The only thing that Jesus freaks and I agree about is the pointlessness of Santa. And that’s the ONLY thing. Believe me, I was perfectly happy as a kid to get a 16-bit gaming system from my mom. No need for some asshole who spends his life judging the behavior of children and knowing when they’re asleep. Santa Krueger.