This week's blog post is by WDP co-host Matt Rocco, who lives in the Edgewater Glen neighborhood of Chicago with Professor Foster (his non-white, non-dad wife), and their daughter Viva, who believes that Santa, Giuseppe Verdi, and Charles Darwin are all the same person and says "Ho Ho Ho" to the exclusion of all other phrases.
You'd better watch out. You'd better not cry. You'd better not pout. Because if you do, an ancient polar moral authority with technology far beyond mortal comprehension will deny you a super expensive present to throw on top of the pile of presents you're going to get on Dec. 25. On the other hand, should you behave, he'll invade your house under cover of darkness and give you a Wii U, licensed by Nintendo, but constructed by elves. ELVES!
It's that time of year again, the time when little children are taught to forget everything they know about physics, locomotion, and the skillset of caribou, and put their faith in a hirsute fat man with rosacea who travels the world in velvet pajamas. Santa Claus is coming to town.
My wife and I have gone around and around since we first met about how to handle "The Santa Problem" with our children, to no avail. Now we have a 2-year-old and the issue is squarely at hand. I am anti-Santa. She is pro-Santa. The battle was, of course, over before it began - she's going to get what she wants, and Santa will be visiting our house this year and, bleary-eyed, wolfing down holiday Chips Ahoy and a glass of milk at 2 a.m. (even though he is lactose intolerant).
What my wife doesn't have, however, is the glorious WDP media empire, which I will now employ to state my side of the argument.
After I make the Case Against Santa, I will let you decide if this whole Yuletide farce should indeed continue.
This "jolly old elf" spends the year making toys and delivering them to privileged children who uphold his code of conduct whilst completely ignoring the pain and suffering of most of the world's populace. Delightful.
You have enslaved a race of subservient manufacturing workers, Kris Kringle, you vicious arctic tyrant! Ingenious ones, at that! Perhaps they could be working on new antibiotics, sustainable farming practices, or methods to mitigate climate change instead of bringing iPhones to little Skylar Bourgeoisie in Kenilworth. Did you even think of that? Did you?
Enjoy your Barbie Dream House, Kendall in Rye, N.Y. Good luck with your guitar, Cameron in Austin, Texas. Don't fall off your new bike, Reagan in Orange County.
What's that, Anushka in New Delhi? Nothing in your stocking? How about you, Zhang Min? Any jingle bells on your rooftop in Shanghai? No.
He sees you when you're sleeping. Gross.
This villain has the ability to monitor every person on earth 24/7, and yet he does nothing to deter or apprehend criminals, he merely decides whether or not your 7-year-old was too whiny to get new roller blades this year. (See point one).
He also teaches your kid that good things come from not rising up against an organized force watching your every mood. This slippery slope begins with St. Nick and ends with red light and speed cameras along Ashland, Peterson, Chicago, Western, and more sending you automated tickets at $100 a throw.
Let's see, he visits all the houses in North America in about six hours, in treacherous weather conditions, using only eight reindeer, and tiny ones at that (not counting the one with the radioactive proboscis). He gets into everyone's living rooms, even though no one has had a chimney that can fit a person since whatever decade Mary Poppins is set. He shoots back UP the chimney using a nose activated jetpack. Oh, and he somehow finds time to sit in a chair in the middle of every mall in the country all weekend and get peed on by toddlers.
Believe that, and you'll believe that Bill Gates is sending $1,000 to everyone who forwards an e-mail. Believe that, and you'll believe that a Nigerian prince will give you his fortune if you just send your ABA routing number to his inbox. Believe that, and you'll believe in economic theories predicated on the rich allowing money to reach the poor, the sustainability of diets that only involve eating meat and fat, and you'll believe former Playboy Playmates who tell you not to vaccinate your child.
Santa makes you stupid.
I'm sure you didn't work 12 hours a day all month so some bizarre snow hermit who looks like Uncle Jesse from The Dukes of Hazzard can get thanked for the new Lightning McQueen Power Wheels your kid just opened.
So there you have it, my argument for why Santa deserves the Ho Ho Heave Ho this, and every year. Leave a comment and let me know if you agree.
Oh, also, he enjoys Coca-Cola, which makes you fat and rots your teeth. Kids don't need to see that.
Viva Rocco, 2, Santa Saying, "Ho, Ho, Ho!" 2013, Crayon on Paper
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