Santa Claus

Lowering the Bar

I recently learned that The Tooth Fairy has been known to give children $10 for their discarded teeth.

I’ve attended children’s birthday parties that appear to cost more than my wedding. I’ve seen star charts created to award children for simply existing. Oh little Bobby is breathing so AMAZING today, isn’t he!!! Here’s $100.

This is insanity, people. Insanity. Why are some of you setting the bar this high?

When you act in this outrageous fashion it diminishes the sense of accomplishment I feel when I discover my child has a pair of clean underwear to wear.

I have no problem admitting that I routinely fail in my role as parent so perhaps I’m not the best to insist on some standard rules of engagement. But when little Timmy’s Easter haul is worth more than the GNP of Uzbekistan, I think we can all see that things have gotten out of hand.

Therefore, I think parents can agree on some basic ground rules.

1. Santa Claus. Can we establish that Santa Claus gives one gift and one gift only? And let it be kind of a crappy gift like tube socks or a box of chalky Whitman’s Sampler. This way the children feel a sort of begrudging resentment to Santa like they do when they have to write a thank you note to Great Aunt Hilda who routinely gives a box of holiday-colored sporks. Then in 10 years, let’s have Santa die in an avalanche so there can actually be peace on earth.

2. Tooth Fairy. $10 for tooth? Seriously? Fuck that noise. I say no money. I say let’s use her to our advantage to scare children into better dental hygiene. I don’t know about you, but getting my 3-year-old to brush his teeth is about as easy as getting Kayne West to stop referencing himself. Let’s instead have the Tooth Fairy leave ominous notes like “Dear little Sarah, I picked up your decayed tooth. If you don’t do a better job brushing, I’m going to come back one night and take them all. Love, the Tooth Fairy.”

3. Birthday parties.

toomuchridiculousnessThis. This right here is how you get a 9-year-old Nathaniel bitching on Twitter about how much he hates his fucking parents for buying him a black iPhone rather than a white one for his half birthday. Let’s scale back a bit, parents, shall we? Does your three-year-old really need a Marie Antoinette-themed party complete with a one-of-a-kind Palace of Versailles bouncy house and cardboard cutouts of disgruntled peasants? No. I’ve seen my son be entertained for over an hour by the simple act of throwing a tennis ball over our garbage can enclosure. Add a cake and that just became the best birthday party in his short life.

4. Easter.

fuckingnutsThere is no reasonable explanation for buying this much chocolate for one child unless your child is expecting a shiv in the back at the playground and needs some allies. All you’re doing with this display is guaranteeing you will be shelling out $70 to the Tooth Fairy in the near future. Along the same lines as Santa, let’s have the Easter Bunny give one piece of candy and let it be an elephant peanut or a Necco wafer so the kiddies won’t be too upset when the Easter Bunny is inadvertently shot and killed by Elmer Fudd in 2018.

5. Pinterest.

lastminutecostumemyass

Oh this? This is a “last-minute” Halloween costume idea. Really? Maybe on a planet were a minute is the equivalent of five months. There are many such devious DIY ideas on Pinterest that are designed to set a parent up for failure, and make you wonder where all these other parents have the time to make a DIY DeLorean time machine out of crepe paper with their children while you don’t have the energy to construct a ball from a hunk of dried-out Play-doh. How about we make this easy DIY genius responsible for your failure. Say, if you can’t easily make this, the DIY genius is forced to come to your house and make it for you. Or at least gets punched in the face.

I get that people love their kids. I do too (mine, not theirs). But we do no one any favors when that love manifests itself into over-the-top materialistic displays that leave some kids with less wondering why Santa is such a withholding dick.

Let’s lower that bar, parents. Your wallet and sanity will thank you.

An Oldie But Goodie – Santa Claus is Kind of a Dick

Dearest Reader,

What you are reading is a recycled post. I crafted this homage to Santa Claus’s dickery back before the iPhone 5 was invented, Beyonce still had a baby inside her uterus and Hugo was trapped in a box in the basement. 

Where has the time gone? For those who are reading this for a second time, thanks for following me since November 2011. For my new followers, my archives are full of such gems including one that has a picture of Richard Simmons wearing a pom-pom tank top. 

And a special thanks to all who voted for this choice in the What-the-blazes-should-I-write-about-for-the-last-three-installments-of-NaBloWriMo poll. I love you too.

The claymation masterpiece Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer was something a young Speaker7 looked forward to watching every Christmas. Then she got older, lost her looks, gained a hair in her neck, and discovered a truth:

Santa Claus is a dick.

And a bigot.

And kind of an asshole.

His behavior throughout the entire show is deplorable. Santa does not have the best reaction when he catches sight of Rudolph without the prosthetic brown nose Donner makes him wear.

The subtext is clear: you better be a conformist brown-noser. This opens up the poor little reindeer to taunts and ridicule and his expulsion from all the reindeer games. Santa does nothing to discourage the bullying, and in fact seems to revel in it, holding onto his disgusting jelly belly as he laughs and laughs.

So what choice does Rudolph have, but to leave the home he’s only known and travel to New York City where differences are not just accepted, they’re completely ignored.

He meets Ratso Rizzo with the hope that Ratso can help him become a hustler. He meets up with Hermey who has also been ostracized for his unwillingness to work in Santa’s sweatshop.

Together the two travel to the Island of Misfit Toys where toys that did not meet Santa’s standards are sent to die. You know who Santa’s beginning to sound like right? Yeah, I’m going to say it…Martha Stewart. She is a dick.

Rudolph ekes out a living in the wilderness and a few months later decides to return home. He arrives in the middle of a blizzard. Santa is flipping out that he won’t be able to perform his one-day a year job, and talks about canceling Christmas Eve. Santa then has a brilliant idea.

So everything is now hunky dory because the freak reindeer can actually be useful. Great message, Santa. Well done.

Dick.

Vultures are AMAZING.

While I roast some chestnuts on the fire and move the pieces of the Nativity scene around so that Mary is lying down because she just had a baby for cripes sake, I ponder what Christmas means to me.

I quickly become bored and open up my laptop and check Facebook where I discover what one of my “friends” thinks about Christmas.

There are many things that confuse me about this status update. First, why did I read the whole thing and then take a screen shot of it? And B, was Santa Claus, Rudolph and those Coke-swilling polar bears at Jesus’s birth? And second, does it really bother you when some underpaid, abused retail clerk mumbles “Happy Holidays” rather than making the sign of the cross and saying “HO HO HO Merry Christmas. . . is that what’s really ruining the holiday, not the people who pepper spray other people for a $2.95 Forever Lazy®? And lastly, why are you yelling? The yelling hurts my eyeballs.

Believe me, I would totally be on the same page with you if sh*t was going down like it did when Nero was Roman emperor, and Christians were torn apart by dogs and set on fire. That is some hardcore persecution right there. But this? Some person ringing up your FisherPrice Imaginext 2 Foot Dragon World Fortress™ at the local dollar store, mumbling “Happy Holidays” as s/he tries to avoid getting cancer from exposure to the products made out of asbestos and arsenic?  I don’t think your “persecution” is going to land you on the Christian martyr list.

Here’s the thing, “friend.” You can scream or write in caps lock “Merry Christmas” until your lungs burst or you have carpal tunnel and no one will really give a mistletoe sprig (well unless it’s at 4:30 a.m., but that’s why noise ordinances are enacted). That is because in America–for now–you are free to practice or not practice any religion you want. I don’t know if things will change now that the U.S. Senate has voted to allow the military to arrest Americans and detain them indefinitely.

Merry Christmas.

But as it stands if I want to practice the religion of Speaker7ism where I believe Speaker7 is omniscient and omnipresent then praise be to Speaker7.

Now I am by no means a history scholar, but I’ve been able to cobble together some knowledge from Snapple bottle caps, Chinese restaurant menus and the labels on Molson Canadian Light. I have learned that vultures can fly for six hours without flapping their wings and that the founding fathers did not want to repeat the problems in England by creating a state-sponsored religion. It never seems to go well for the people in the religious minority.

Really no one can take your belief away from you unless you let them. And your belief should be that Speaker7 is the light and the way.

Or else.

Santa Claus is Kind of a Dick

I’m not a big fan of St. Nick and his twinkling dimples and his obvious cocaine addiction (Visit all of the homes in the world in one night? Yeah, that’s the cocaine talking). But what really cemented my dislike for the jolly red-suited jerk was the way he behaved in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. 

I loved that show as a kid and looked forward to seeing it air around Christmas time. I then saw it as an adult, and discovered the truth about Santa: He is kind of a dick.

He does not have the best reaction when catches sight of Rudolph without the prosthetic brown nose Donner makes him wear.

The subtext is clear: you better be a conformist brown-noser. This opens up the poor little reindeer to taunts and ridicule and his expulsion from all the reindeer games. Sure, Rudolph resembles the patient from the Operation board game, but it’s just a shiny red nose. It looks just like Santa’s after a trip to the bathroom.

Santa does nothing to discourage the bullying, and in fact seems to hold the worldview of “brown nose good, red nose bad.”

So what choice does Rudolph have, but to leave the home he’s only known and travel to New York City where differences are not just accepted, they’re completely ignored.

He meets Ratso Rizzo with the hope that Ratso can help him become a hustler. He meets up with Hermey who has also been ostracized for his unwillingness to work in Santa’s sweatshop.

Together the two travel to the Island of Misfit Toys where toys that did not meet Santa’s standards are sent to die. You know who Santa’s beginning to sound like right? Yeah, I’m going to say it…Martha Stewart. She is a dick.

Rudolph ekes out a living in the wilderness and a few months later decides to return home. He arrives in the middle of a blizzard. Santa is flipping out that he won’t be able to perform his one-day a year job, and talks about canceling Christmas Eve. Santa then has a brilliant idea.

So everything is now hunky dory because the freak reindeer can actually be useful. Great message, Santa. Well done.

Don’t even get me started on the whole naughty-or-nice nonsense especially since Santa’s character judgment is a bit sketchy. Oh, and a piece of coal for those who are naughty? Yeah, how did you get that coal Santa? Removed a few mountaintops in West Virginia? Next you will be doling out vials of hydrofracked wastewater.

It’s going to be generic hydrox cookies this year, buddy.