Now hear me, children. When Santa Claus comes down Santa Claus Lane, he’s gonna be looking for right-thinking children this year. D’you hear me? Orthodoxy. I mean you’d better have your doctrine right or Santa’s gonna put your name on the Naughty List.
Santa’s getting back to his roots this year, and that mean fighting Christian heresy. You got those seeker-shmeeker churches in your town? Those entertainment-driven dives posing as churches? Or you got those preachers who tell you to clean yourself up, pull up your own boot-straps before coming to God for forgiveness? Santa don’t play that. You got that junk going down in your house, and Santa will lay the Holly-Jolly upside your face.
So, you better watch out, punk.
You got that junk going down in your house, and Santa will lay the Holly-Jolly upside your face.
My favorite quote from Christmas 2010, hands down.
As Dr. Gene Edward Veith reminds us (http://www.worldmag.com/articles/11390), the real St. Nicholas slapped the heretic Arius during the Nicene Council. (He apologized later.) But the guy had standards.
As a writer, I can guarantee you that this Santa is a character Johnny Depp would like to play.
The real Santa Claus .. was really my uncle freddie. He did indeed slap a few people around, usually to get their flask. One time, he had to slap around a pope or two, but so what? They were trying to corner the market on blueberry poptarts, and he couldn’t abide by that. So, after he got counseling at the Ferret Anger Management Burrow, he decided to turn over a new leaf. But all he found was an old leaf. It wasn’t good enough for my uncle freddie to just talk about change, or think about it, he had to ACT, and act he did. He decided to corner the pop tart market himself! This scheme worked pretty good, the dwindling supply of blueberry poptarts however, did not raise the price, since Kelloggs just started putting out “BlueBerry Muffin” poptarts, and of course “Frosted”…
So uncle freddie conceived of a plan: He’d sneak around at night and slide into people’s houses, carrying poptarts, and leaving them to get rid of some of his stash. It seems that my aunt, also named uncle freddie, she couldn’t keep all those poptarts in the burrow, and wanted to be done with the entire fiasco.
So you can imagine the sight of my uncle freddie, lugging all those poptarts around by himself, and making his rounds. He needed help. So at night, he’d yell: “freddie” and get the assistance of all my other uncle freddies. You see, everyone in my family is named uncle freddie. But that’s another tale.
Well, this worked pretty well, after a fashion, but my aunt was still plagued with all the poptarts since kelloggs, not knowing any better just let uncle freddie corner the market, and kept sending them. All my uncle freddies were getting tired playing assistant. this wasn’t their freakin problem, and they worked just as hard, and all night, and all their wives were getting pretty bipolar with noone to snuggle with. So my other uncle freddies hatched a plan of their own: and decided to enlist the help of the village rabbits to pull the whole operation around, while uncle freddie did his schlepping.
Thus was the original story of Christmas born centuries ago. How it was stolen by humans and turned into the present creation, i’ll never know.
But next time we casually mention Santa slapping around a few folks, just remember, we owe it all to blueberry poptarts, and a reformed uncle freddie.
I tweet at Samuel_Clemons no toaster pastries were harmed in the making of this epic.
Sam, I didn’t know your middle name was Zeus. Did you add that yourself or did your pretentious parents give it to you?