Old St. Prick: The Nasty Truth About Santa Claus

by Rachel Gertz

You’re over Christmas—I know that. It’s been at least two solid weeks of Merry Christmas this and Happy Effing Holiday that. If you hear any more carols blaring out of Old Navy or Baby Gap you’ll fart candy-cane glitter and shit eggnog.

Well, guess what? It’s December 29th and I’m not done quite done with this jolly yüle-tide holiday yet. That means neither are you.

Why you ask?

I have a bone to pick with Santy-Claus. And it ain’t because he put me on his naughty list or dropped a chunk of coal in my thigh-highs neither.

It’s because he’s a fraud. That’s right. Santa isn’t the magical man you think.

If you’ve been paying attention to the news the last fifty to seventy-five years, Santa’s become quite a grinch. You see, Christmas used to stand for great things like that kid Jesus’ birth and family time and being a good samaritan and stuff, but as the Twitters have exposed recently, Santa has been destroying that message in the worst way.

The message of charity and love for your fellow man has been replaced by delirious grabs during Black Friday and greedy little teenagers bitching about Santa bringing them the black iPhone for Christmas when they asked for the white. Or not getting them a damn car. I know that many of you think Santa’s not so much to blame for this as rampant consumerism or bad parenting, but if we’re going to be friends, let’s get one thing straight. It’s all Santa’s fault.

Let’s dissect the creation and lifestyle of this lethargic, materialistic old man to find out how Santa has been destroying Christmas.

WARNING: I might as well tell you, this is going to be a full-fledged character assassination. So if you’re not digging my beating on Santa and are already getting offended, I suggest you shield your eyes or unfriend me on Facebook.

This ain’t gonna be pretty. Unfortunately it’s gotta be done, so let’s dish the dirt on Santa.

The Legend

Santa as we know him today was borne in the small city of Patara (280 AD) within what is now called Turkey—pretty appropriate considering the girth around his middle. He was a rich* Christian priest who later became a bishop and he travelled around Asia Minor doling out oranges and wooden toys to children only after they’d gone to sleep. I guess he savoured the anonymity of being a good Samaritan. Originally named Santa Nicolaus (shortened to St. Nick and later Santa Claus by North Americans), Mr. Claus was ordained by a Roman emperor who demanded that all of Asia Minor worship him as a god.

Well, latter Christians didn’t approve of that (after all, there is only one true god), so they threw Santa in prison for five years in 313 AD. That’s a bit of a red flag, isn’t it? When we have a convicted criminal hanging around delivering presents to children in a red jumpsuit almost 1700 years later? Sigh. I guess he did his time.

Anyway, Santa got his whole reindeer/elf/sleigh/delivering presents-in-one-night schtick from the 1809 poem by Clement Clarke Moore (otherwise known as the guy who created “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas”). Catchy poem, especially if you’re drunk.

In 1931, corporate giant Coca Cola commandeered Santa’s PR and for almost thirty years, it shaped society’s understanding of Santa Claus with his cherry-red nose and jolly countenance. My guess? Santa became a sellout to Coke in the dirty thirties to pay his exorbitant North Pole heating bill.

As time wore on, Santa became synonymous with consumerism. He started making mall appearances to bring in extra cash around the holidays and profited from cheesy photos with screaming kids wriggling around on his lap. Lord knows how he manages to make an appearance in all of the 873 trillion malls simultaneously, and it’s an even bigger miracle how he manages to enjoy the mall visits of over two hundred million puke-faced greedy kids each year. That estimate is based on the fact that the rest are either Jewish, Muslim or don’t have any malls to skulk around in.

So where does that leave us?

Photo credit: Kakapo31 on Flickr.

Why Santa’s a Prick

Santa is 1732 years old. He’s a white male with incredible affluence, who gives presents to the children of the rich while ignoring the children of the poor. If you don’t believe me, drop on in to any of the poorest countries and ask. I’ll bet the kids living in the Jardim Gramacho dump of Brazil got squat for Christmas—well excluding the Justin Bieber albums the rich kids in Rio chucked away.

Santa also ignores any kid who is Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, Atheist, Taoist, Buddhist, Shintoist, Rastafari, or Unitarian or a host of other non-westernized Santa-celebrating religions. That means if you don’t believe in him (much like people’s concept of god), you won’t be rewarded. This probably doesn’t phase the kids who don’t celebrate Christmas, but I’m pretty sure consumerism is rampant throughout the world which means they probably still want the presents. Even radical Christians are pissed that Santa’s stealing baby Jesus’ limelight.

What a heinous a-hole.

Santa’s Uneducated

He has no formal education—he probably never even graduated with his pupal classmates in 297AD (not that you have to earn a piece of paper and four years worth of liver damage in higher education to be successful). What is he teaching our children? Really? If you’re jolly but stupid, the world will only remember you’re jolly? Kids who drop out do but do charity work can still be town heroes? Please. That’s a pack of lies. Everybody knows that our society doesn’t tolerate people who are uneducated when they had every available opportunity to get smart. That’s why our jails are packed to the gills. Why should Santa get a free ride? I say put him to work in menial labour and give him two weeks paid holidays. Knock him right off his high antlered horse.

Indeed, there are Santa schools for the copycats that set these regular men back a couple hundred dollars but the real Santa never studied Kris Khringling a day in his life. How come we rely on him to distribute the world’s presents, again?

He’s a Lazy SOB

He’s lazy.Yeah this slacker makes up for it one night of the year, but if I tried to pull that shit on my husband, I’d get a piece of beef jerky for sustenance and a shortcut to the nearest exit. What does Santa do the other 364 days of the year? Put up his feet and smoke a dozen doobs? I could totally see Santa being a stoner.

The Guy’s Unfit

That bowl full of jelly otherwise known as his gut? Santa earned it, let me tell you. One million cookies and 500 000 glasses of milk in one night would give anyone a coronary, but Santa must be doing carb calisthenics to prepare for that kind of gut assault. He’s probably chowing down on bacon and whiskey sandwich recipes at this very moment, courtesy of the boys at Epic Meal Time.

In fact, I’m betting that Santa—overweight by at least 112lbs has eaten himself right into a case of Type 2 Diabetes. Nothing like setting an example, Santa. Don’t work out, don’t eat right, and sure as hell don’t feel bad about it. Be creative, at least! Why don’t you revolutionize the next Subway diet? Gluten free cookies? Something, for god’s sake.

He’s A Patriarchal Douche Wad

Santa certainly isn’t making those bacon whiskey sandwiches himself. Poor Mrs. Claus who is at least 1700 years old gets ordered around the house all day, darning his putrid woollen socks and cleaning mustard stains off of his wife beaters. She’s practically his slave (and she’s a boot—she couldn’t do much better than Santa with that plain old mug). I picture her looking like Edith Bunker. She’s probably a huge porn fiend, too. Wouldn’t you be? Stuck in the North Pole 365 days a year—I’ll bet she has candy cane vibrators stashed all over the house so she doesn’t succumb to cabin fever—or Santa’s shrivelled garlic sausage. Just once you’d think Santa would give Mrs. Claus the courtesy of a sleigh ride while he lavishly tours the whole world in a single night. What a selfish prick.

Practices Slave Labour

Don’t you find it odd Santa and Mrs. Claus have no children of their own? Did he sell them? Harvest their organs to feed the reindeer? Did he turn them all into elven slaves? How many elves does he have working those treacherous night shifts at the pole anyway? The Arctic is owned by virtually every northern-reaching country (Canada, US, Russia, Greenland, UK etc), so there are no clear child or small person labour laws being enforced. It wouldn’t surprise me if these elves were being used in Santa’s arctic mining operation to unearth enough viable metals for all the damn iPhones the ungrateful children of North America are demanding for Christmas this year. And you can bet your ass these workhorses aren’t getting paid either, unless it’s with Monopoly money. Half of them are probably blind from the chemical dust kicked up from having to dance like the Munchkins to endless Christmas songs. Santa sure is a sadistic mo-fo.

Those elves work every day in a frigid, unlit factory fit for rats, using antiquated tools to build modern day miracles of technology. Kids don’t want toy soldiers and wooden horses anymore. They want iPad2s and Xboxes and hybrid cars. These things require magic. And who’s out there slaving over the polished metal pieces, the microchips, the pre trimmed plastic? Not Santa, that’s for damn sure.

Nature’s Worst Nightmare

Then there’s his treatment of animals. Guess he’s not an advocate for PETA what with all that downy fur trim he boasts. He holds nine reindeer in a little pen all year long, then whips the shit out of them like he’s in the freaking Iditarod on Christmas Eve. You know why Rudolph has a red nose? It’s from all those broken blood vessels he’s earned getting uppercutted in the face. You ever seen a falling star on Christmas Eve? That’s Rudolph getting punted off the lead sleigh position ‘cause he pissed Santa off again with his pathetic inferiority complex. Check the snow for blood specks. You’ll find them.

He’s a mean one, that Santa. Don’t even get me started on his drinking problem.

He’s an Environmental Monster

You want to know about global warming? It’s Santa’s nocturnal emissions—his factory spouting out tonnes of soot and sulphurous gases, heating up the arctic air. Santa doesn’t support Cap and Trade and he’s been the jerk whispering in Stephen Harper’s ear to pull out of the Kyoto Accord since 1997. He can’t afford to put a limit on CO2 production, not when millions of kids around the world rely on him for serious material rewards. Not to mention those reindeer belches. Here’s even more detail on Santa’s carbon footprint in case you doubt my authenticity.

That sleigh? That ain’t driven by magic. Every year, Santa travels at speeds of 2,924,180mph to make his way around the world in 34 hours and he uses an estimated 5698 lbs of fuel (total guess) to do so. If Santa updated to a clean energy alternative (I hear Thorium is getting big), think how many coastal cities could be saved from rising sea levels.

Douche wad.

The Bad Wrap

Now the thing that really gets my goat is this: we’ve spent almost 2000 years telling our children not to talk to strangers, not to ask for things they don’t need, and not to be selfish. So why the hell do we tell our children that an old, fat man in a red suit will be watching them all year long while they sleep (creepy!), write them off with a sweep of a quill pen (really, who uses a quill pen these days) and then break and enter into our homes on Christmas Eve to deliver materialistic goods created by little people who work as indentured slaves? And our kids are supposed to be okay with that? We’re supposed to be okay with that? What the hell is wrong with us?

That simply doesn’t fly with me, Santa.

Bad Santas

Santa shapes the role of consumerism in Christmas by sitting on a throne-like chairs in the mall and listening to snotty little kids tell him their deepest material desires while onlooking parents cringe knowing they’ll have to pony up the presents later. Santa can actually make an additional $12 -24 000 around the holidays visiting each of these malls, and since he’s a lazy bastard the rest of the year, why not earn a little dough sitting on his ass?

Party Santas and children’s Santas are in high demand around the holidays. That’s why the good ones can earn over $100 an hour. Of course there are costs to consider; the red suit is leased at $350; if Santa needs to replace his alopecia affected beard, that’s another $350 for something convincing. I’m not sure how Santa can afford all those extra costs since he’s usually passed out in a puddle of his own urine by 2pm. Then there’s the occasional background check Santa has to contend with.

Santa the Pedophile

Background checks don’t seem to stop a few of these knock-off Santas making the real one look bad. Recently, the North Pole Santa program halted its letter responses because a volunteer and registered sex offender gained access to a child’s personal information and home address. I’m sure he just had a personal Christmas delivery to make. Needless to say, if the real Santa didn’t hate poor kids so much, this probably wouldn’t have happened since he’d be delivering the presents himself and I’m crossing my fingers that he isn’t a pederast.

Here are a couple other bad Santas who have been in the news recently:

Hmm, weird! Santa crimes that involve doing mean or dirty things to our own families by disguising them with good intent?? Now I wonder why those six year-olds don’t want to climb on Santa’s sweaty knee!

Don’t worry. I’m not saying that all Santas are pedophiles or killers. That would be equivalent to saying all priests are pedophiles, and that simply isn’t true. But if Santa can get away with touching your kids or killing your parents and still retain a snowy white conscience, isn’t it high time we pick out a new Christmas mascot?

If Santa can be a lazy, dopy a-hole who sells kids the idea that extrinsic rewards (or lumps of toxic coal) are the only reason to be good, that charity is only for one night of the year, that only certain kids of certain religious and socio-economic statuses deserve presents, and that your parents bear the sole responsibility of keeping Christmas magic alive by force-feeding a myth of epic proportions down your throat, then maybe it’s a good time to choose a new Christmas hero. One without the exorbitant price tag.

Until then, I guess I’ll be on the naughty list sporting those coal burnished stockings. If you haven’t heard, Santa’s not exactly my biggest fan.

Suck it, Santa.

*On a side note, I’m supremely interested to find out where Santa got all that dough—could it be a matter of stealing from the other rich kids after stealing a glance at them sleeping and redistributing their wealth? That theory could have some real implications for K Street.


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