A stream of consciousness on Santa.
How credible is Santa? The whole concept of Santa is pretty weird, if you think about it. A stranger climbing down your chimney in the middle night? I feel like climbing down a chimney, especially a tall one, requires a lot of dexterity and probably some super granola rock-climbing skills and I just don’t trust anyone who’s simultaneously that athletic and creepy.
Also Santa’s fat and has a white beard. Honestly, how many people do you know with a long white beard? Like zero—because that’s not a thing. The only person I can think of who might have a long white beard besides the fictional entity that is Santa is maybe a sensei master. Or Albus Dumbledore. And how does Santa fit down the chimney? In addition to being a hipster rock-hugger and probably owning Chacos, now Santa is a contortionist? I literally don’t trust this dude.
THEN this guy eats your food and drinks your 2% milk. If I knew I was feeding snickerdoodles to my parents when I was little, I would have not wasted my time. My parents did not need to be eating cookies if they were paying so much for a gym membership during that time period in my life. Pre-pubescent, innocently chubby children are the only people who have a right to eat as many snickerdoodles as I left out for “Santa.” “Santa” should have been eating celery and doing some lunges. Speaking of vegetables, my brother and I totally left out carrots for the reindeer. Isn’t that selfless? …but for what cause? Imaginary flying deer? But honestly that was okay. Because no one wants vegetables. People want snickerdoodles.
Can we also talk about how Santa shopped at Walmart and Target? What a cheap-skate. Did all the elven-made toys get given out to the really nice cookie-cutter children? And then the semi-nice and slightly eccentric children get toys from big corporate chain super stores because 1) Santa’s lazy 2) low-key picking favorites? This is the most judgmental thing I’ve ever heard of. Arguably even unethical. Plus my mom told me that Santa and Jesus were in cahoots—that they were both watching me and communicated amongst each other. This is an incredible amount of pressure for an eight-year-old.
Lastly…the North Pole? Really? Why not like, Orlando or something? How much is the heating bill each month? Is Santa a millionaire? A billionaire? Is his sleigh a Maserati; a Maserati sleigh? I don’t know. These seem like relevant questions because if you’re going to live in the North Pole and aren’t living in an igloo, I feel like you have to have a lot of money to maintain that lifestyle.
Probably getting put on the Naughty list for this article.