Making a List, Checking it Twice, Gonna Find Out Who's Got Santa Ink

Making a List, Checking it Twice, Gonna Find Out Who's Got Santa Ink

Some Santa Claus ink for those who still believe.

Lately I've been accosted by numerous other full grown adults who keep telling me that Santa Claus is not real. What planet are these people living on? Didn't their parents teach them right? Didn't they tell them about the magic of Christmas and how if you just believe, then anything is possible?

I bet they will be receiving a ton of coal in their stockings this year. Not me though, I have my eyes set on a couple of guitar pedals that I really want. I wrote my letter to Mr. Claus, and I'm hoping he answers my pleas. Santa, I just want to rock out even harder in 2017.

People laugh at me. People tell me I'm stupid because I still write to Santa. People think I need to "grow up" and accept the fact that I'm a 27-year-old with a job, insurance, and massive credit card debt. My colleagues think it's silly that I still wait for the fat man to slide down my chimney and drop off little gifts for me and my family.

But you know what? Fuck those people. That's why Santa won't be visiting their houses this year, and the year after that, and the year after that. 

Plus, Santa can't help with all of my lame adult responsibilities. Santa can't help me get into a managerial position at my job. Santa can't help pay off the debt I owe Chase bank after racking up purchases on my credit card all year.

You know what Santa can do? Give me a little pick-me-up to help me get through my days in the form of trinkets and toys.

Plus, I've seen him. I mean it. I've seen Santa Claus. Every year. How can you see the dude every year on the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, in just about every mall, and still not believe? These people who preach "seeing is believing." I fuckin' see him. People who say, "Pics for proof," I've got numerous pics. It's proven.

Sure, I haven't technically seen him coming down the chimney and dropping off the presents, but does it fuckin' matter? As long as I wake up on Christmas morning and presents are around the tree, I don't care?

Look, I've never seen my mother take a shower, but I believe she does it. You can have faith in something without having to see it, or even want to see it. I don't want to see my mom take a shower, just like I don't want to see Santa dropping off my gifts.

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I don't want to go to the North Pole either. Fuck that shit dude, you can keep your workshop up there. It's cold as balls up there dude, I would never want to go up there, but why should I fuckin' judge Santa for opening a toy factory and employing all these undervalued and underprivileged elves? What would they be doing if they weren't making toys for us all? Fuckin' nothing. Santa created a goddamn economy up there.

Look, stay up north dude. I live in New York City. There's already too many fuckin' people here, I don't need Santa Claus coming down and living in Manhattan, raising the price of rent. You wanna live up in the North Pole? Doesn't bother me!

Also, the dude employs reindeer. You know what happens to reindeer in the woods? They get devoured by fuckin' wolves and shit. They get hunted by humans, they get eaten by coyotes, it's brutal. So, Santa gave them all the gift of flight and asks them ONCE A YEAR to help him deliver joy across the world.

Could you imagine how dope your life would be if you only had to work once a year? Plus, you're working for the most magical and amazing dude in the universe? Yea, sign me up.

I don't care what PETA says, that's a cushy job.

His diet is milk and cookies. Tell me that isn't awesome. I watch my diet all year round. Eat bland-ass chicken and rice, scarf down spinach and kale. It fuckin' sucks. Santa gets to eat milk and cookies. Tell me that you wouldn't want to just eat?

Santa doesn't have any body image issues. I look at myself in the mirror every day, picking apart every part of my body, ashamed. I'm not broad enough, my chest isn't big enough, my once-visible abs are disappearing. I hate myself.

Santa doesn't hate himself, he just goes "Ho ho ho!" and is jolly as a mother fucker. He's the shit.

The dude's gotta be jacked too. He puts all the gifts in a sack that he carries on his back. He's gotta have massive quads, hamstrings and calves in order to carry that bag around the world. If nothing else, you have to admire that work ethic and dedication to his job.

Do you even lift, bro? Yea. Santa does. Santa can out-squat you.

We live in a society that preaches you can believe what you want. Yet somehow, believing in Santa still has a stigma around it. It's for the ill-educated children of the world. Us, sophisticated adults, we don't believe in him.

Yeah, and that's why you're all depressed pieces of trash.

Have some joy in your life. Believe in Santa once again. He's the shit.

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