Category: Christmas

I don’t have much willpower when it comes to food.
Moderation, the secret to good living, is completely foreign to me.
There’s no point to a ziploc seal on any snack.
I’m going to eat the whole bag.
So, when it comes to chocolate, I really like advent calendars.
A tiny portion once a day. Only in moderation, right?
Sure, I could rip open every compartment and eat them all, but that’s not right.
If only they made advent calendars for other things…
Jack Daniels, Cocaine, and other sinful things.
Only in moderation, of course.
And the secret is revealed.

To Santa, everything was Christmas.
He was born on Christmas Eve.
And his anniversary with Mrs. Claus was Christmas Eve.
Every major milestone in his life was Christmas Eve.
The business day of his life, because that’s when he’d fly around the world giving toys to good girls and boys.
Never time for a birthday party.
Never time for an anniversary dinner.
“We’ll just have a big Christmas Day celebration,” said Mrs. Claus.
And, not to fault her, but she did her best.
Still, as he flew around the world, Santa yearned for a real birthday and a real anniversary.

Cats are funny creatures.
They get into everything.
Drawers, cabinets, suitcases, and boxes.
Man, do they love boxes.
Try it. Put out a box.
See?
It’s an instinct for them, finding a safe space to hide in to sleep.
So, you shouldn’t be surprised during the holidays when you put out a manger scene and, five minutes later, a cat has taken over the tiny barn.
Or gotten into the manger.
They look so cute in there.
It’s not so cute when your cat displaces Jesus in Crucifixion scenes.
That kind of thing will get you arrested, you sick fuck.

Everybody loves cupcakes.
They’re fun and easy to eat.
So many different kinds of cupcakes out there.
With innovators coming up with more every day.
But what if they’re fruitcake cupcakes?
Frosting on the top. Maybe sprinkles.
Fancy parchment paper cups.
But when you peel back that parchment paper, um, what is this?
What’s with the colors?
Red and green? Happy holidays!
And you try to take a bite, but they’re so thick and sticky and…
Oh my God.
It’s fruitcake cupcakes!
Disgusting!
And you throw them out, just like fruitcake.
And Santa adds you to his naughty list.
Permanently.

When Santa hires an elf, he sends them to Elf University.
There, they learn everything they need to know to work at Santa’s Workshop: making toys, loading them into the sleigh, maintaining the sleigh, and managing the reindeer.
The younger elves do the manual labor, while the experienced ones go into design or management.
And when they can’t do any job anymore, they’re sent to the university to teach.
Santa used an internship and apprenticeship program before, but too many elves got hurt and killed that way.
It’s much safer to put them on the simulators.
Less damage that way.

Despite the world’s population exploding, Santa had to do with the same number of elves and reindeer.
They had to start work earlier and earlier in the year, and work longer hours.
And the earlier they started, the more changes to wish lists there were.
The kids themselves moved around the lists from nice to naughty and back again.
Not to mention the fakes and scammers and scalpers.
Santa tried to computerize it all, but it’s hard powering workstations and a datacenter that far North.
He broke down, ended up in a Norwegian asylum, and sits staring at the trees.

John the Baptist needed a Christ.
He’d announced that the messiah would be arriving soon to lead the Jews out from under Roman rule.
So, when he saw Jesus, he figured the stoneworker for a good enough messiah.
“Come join me in this lake for a minute,” said John.
“Okay, that’s a bit weird,” said Jesus.
But he did it anyway, and had a vision.
“Shit, dude, you okay?” said John, who had dragged Jesus to the shore and got the water out of his lungs. “Don’t sue me, okay?”
“All’s cool, bro,” said Jesus. “Wanna go wandering?”
They did.

They say that the three wise men followed a star to the place of Jesus’ birth.
But if they were so wise, why would they follow a star?
That doesn’t sound very wise to me.
The little drummer boy found Jesus, and he didn’t follow a star.
Jesus’ mother Mary was worried about the star.
“If the Romans follow the star, they’ll find us and kill us,” she said.
So they bundled everything up and fled the barn, setting it on fire to cover their tracks.
“Nobody born here,” said the wise men to the arriving soldiers. “Nope. Not here.”

A mountain of letters arrived at the North Pole every day.
No matter how many elves he had go through the pile, it would just grow bigger and bigger.
Santa had a team of elves write a database.
And they scanned the letters into the database.
Were they good or bad?
Governments spied on their citizens all the time.
So did big tech companies.
The elves hacked into the those databases, cross-referencing and coming up with a score.
Automating manufacturing and shipping made the holidays a breeze.
Santa kept a skeleton crew to maintain the systems, and fired the rest.

Usually, kids ask Santa for a bicycle or video games or other things.
Sometimes, they ask for a new sister or brother.
But every now and then, one asks for their stepfather to stop beating them.
Santa hates these letters.
He’d call the cops to tip them off, but there’s no phone lines up at the North Pole.
So, when Santa does his dry run on December 24th, he brings a baseball bat and kneecaps these motherfuckers in their sleep.
Or drags them up to the sleigh, takes off, and throws them over the side on to the hard pavement.