Modern Christmas Survival Guide: Santa Edition

Christmas in America used to be simple for Santa Claus. His responsibilities were straight forward: fly around to every Christian home in the country, slide his pudgy ass down the chimney, and leave presents for the all the nice girls and boys. Naughty girls and boys got a stocking full of coal, which was really a gift to their parents for putting up with their naughtiness all year, as everything was coal-powered back in the day.

These days, the increased commercialism and political correctness in America have complicated Christmas beyond recognition. Santa has to watch his back now. So, to help him out, I am going to explain some of the new rules.

1. Merry Christmas vs. Happy Holidays
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night," is pretty much Santa's catchphrase. After his booming, "Ho, ho, ho!", it is the phrase most identified with Old Saint Nick. In recent years, though, the words "Merry Christmas" have come under attack from the political correctness nazis. The phrase has been labelled too exclusive and given up by many businesses and families in exchange for the bland-but-all-inclusive "Happy Holidays".

The confusing aspect to this phenomenon is that, as offended as the P.C.-types are by "Merry Christmas", it does not hold a candle to how offended the Keep-Christ-In-Christmas-types are by "Happy Holidays". The key is to figure out which of these groups one would rather offend. For a normal person like myself, it is completely appropriate to make fun of both of these groups of people, because they are all morons who are getting fired up over a benign, appropriate phrase. However, Santa has to enter these people's homes.

This decision in simple if you look at it from the right point of view. The chance that a "Happy Holidays" champion is armed is slim to none. I suspect that the people who want to include everyone in every holiday phrase are the same people who want firearms outlawed completely, at least 8 times out of 10. On the other hand, the folks who are insisting that Christ permeate every aspect of the season own a lot of guns. A LOT of guns. Side with the gun owners, Santa. Merry Christmas it up.

2. The Competitive, Suburban, Commercial Mom
Mothers and wives in commercials are crazy bitches. They are controlling, competitive, crazy bitches. They base their self worth at least partially on their ability to buy their families a ton of shit for cheap. As a result, this year they seem to have begun competing with Santa Claus. We have all seen the commercials where Santa comes down the chimney with a few nice gifts only to encounter some coupon-high suburban housewife glaring at him. She has already laid out an array of modern tech gadgets under the tree. She defies Santa to pull anything more amazing from his sack.

First of all, these hoes don't deserve your time, Santa. Don't they know you are magic? You could pull the most amazing thing anyone has ever seen from your majestic sack, you just choose not to because these bitches' kids have learned from their mothers' example and suuuuck. Just skip these houses, Santa. Delete the whole family from your list.

3. Americans want Santa to work a Lot of OTHER jobs around Christmas
Santa pops up all over the place at Christmas time. He is the jolly car salesman, the jolly furniture salesman, the jolly Coke truck driver, and so, so much more. Apparently Santa is unaware of our unemployment problem. We might think we want Santa to just take over all of our major commercial industries this time of year, but is it really the best idea? You know what is even better than seeing Santa selling cars? Putting Christmas dinner on your family's table.

It seems no one has picked up on the Santa Claus/holiday unemployment connection yet, but it is only a matter of time. Look at Barrack Obama's approval ratings, Santa. And that's not a guy who is actually stealing American jobs, he just can't seem to find a way to make more. If you want to maintain your always-high level of support, you need to back off, old man.

4. Justin Bieber
Justin Bieber made a Christmas album, and every tween girl wants it. As much as it may wrack your very soul, Santa, you have to give it to them. 10-13 year old girls are powerful. They all have twitter accounts. Did you see what twitter did to Egypt and Tunisia? Imagine what it could do to your reputation, Santa. Just become a Belieber, and Christmas will go smoothly this year.

Dreaming of a Fat Christmas

I heard "White Christmas" playing over the sound system in a store today, and it made me unbearably excited. Don't get me wrong; I know it's obscenely early for Christmas music. This year, though, I have legitimate reasons to get giddy at the thought of the approaching holidays.

I am the kind of person who always becomes excited when the Christmas trees appear like magic in the malls. The incessant cycles of the same old Christmas carols in public places don't bother me. I sing the girl parts of "Baby It's Cold Outside" literally every time I hear it, regardless of where I may be located at the time. Something about "Christmas Joy" is just very real to me; always has been. I guess it has to do with the bubbling anticipation of Christmas morning that is built into American children from birth.

This year, I have already begun dealing with a constant bubbling anticipation, but it cannot be blamed on Christmas's approach. My son's due date just happens to be December 29th, adding a whole lot of excitement and intrigue to the holiday season. It's like waiting for a hundred Christmas mornings, and it is constant.

In a lot of ways, waiting for a baby is like waiting for Santa. Whereas children never know what Santa Clause may bring in his sack, I don't know what our baby will bring in his appearance, his personality, or his temperament. I can make educated guesses based on my own and my fiance's traits, much like a child can safely assume that Santa received her list of wishes and acted obligingly. Still, kids never really know until they unwrap their gifts under the tree, and I will not know until I complete what I presume will be a short and relatively painless labor and birth.

So forgive me if, this year, I nearly pee with excitement the first time I hear "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas", or see a house decorated for the holidays, or smell baking gingerbread and hot chocolate. The normal indicators of Christmas's approach all seem like big signs saying "YOUR BABY IS ALMOST HERE!!" to my crazy, pregnant brain.

I'm just glad I am not in Maryland, where I grew up, and where the first snow flurries of the year always put me into an orgiastic, Christmastastic frenzy. This year I would likely run out into the snow, barefoot, belly out, and chase the snowflakes, wild eyed, while screaming "It's beginning to look a lot like BABIES!" into the night. And no one wants to witness that, not even Saint Nick.