Santa Claus

The Completely True Story of Christmas.

I want to start this off by saying I have done a negative amount of shopping for anyone other than myself this holiday season, but fully intend to win Christmas with the amazingness of all the presents I haven’t bought yet.

If you don’t know the story of Christmas, you can read about it here. Oh, and welcome to the twenty-first century, by the way, how was living under that rock for the past… forever?

Reflecting on all the things we do to get ready for the holidays, I couldn’t help but realize how most of it is kinda… weird.  It got me thinking about how it all started.  Thus, I present to you: How Christmas Probably Happened. But Actually Probably Not Really. 

Many moons ago, this kid was born. And he was born in like, kinda not a normal way, because he just appeared in this lady, Mary’s belly.  She was married to this really chill dude named Joe, and I guess they had an extra bedroom and no idea what to use it for, so naturally, a baby will solve that problem!

But Baby Jeezy wasn’t an ordinary baby. Because that would be silly.  Seeing as he just kinda picked Mary to be his mom, he can’t possibly be a normal kid, he has to AT LEAST amount to being a moonlighting superhero.

This kid, Jeezy, turned out to be puh-ritty special.  So they decided that his birthday was going to be a holiday, and celebrated worldwide. (Sidenote: My parents obviously didn’t anticipate my greatness or else there would be a holiday on June 2.  Still working on it.)

Joe and Mary decided the best way to commemorate the birth of their phantom son, Jeezy, was to bring plants inside and decorate them. Joe got his favorite axe and hand saw, marched outside and picked the best looking tree on the property, and cut that sucka down.

He brought it inside, stood it up next to the fireplace; proud of his work.  Mary got all concerned that it looked out of place, so she did what anyone else would do with a tree inside their house; she decorated the hell out of it. Even put a star on top to remind herself everyday how good of a job she did.

Sitting on their living room couch amidst a roaring fire, Mary, obviously having a wine, Joe, probably chilling out with a nice Budweiser. They agreed to transcribe the Constitution of Christmas AKA Santa’s Laws.

1. Every year people have to bring a tree inside and decorate it.

It’s a little known fact that if you cut a tree down and take it out of it’s element you end up with a sad evergreen on your hands.  No one likes sad trees, so by making it look like it was sprayed with the contents of a craft store, even the saddest trees get time to shine.

Big trees are for squares.

2.  All gifts must be stored under the tree.

Protect and serve the presents. Protect and serve the people.  It’s the tree’s motto. It’s the tree’s job.

3.  There will be an old man responsible for delivering all the presents.  

He will travel by sleigh.  With not eight, but nine reindeer. One will have a red nose.  ONLY ONE.

We didn't make the cut.

We didn’t make the cut.

4.  His name will be Santa.

He will live in a far away land, working with really, really, short/small people to make toys all year round. He will wear only red.  He will be solely responsible for keeping the color relevant.

5.  He will have a list.

This is the master of all lists.  This list keeps track of the good people and the bad people.  If you’re good, you get toys.  If you’re bad, you get…. coal!  No one likes coal, except miners and barbecues.  So if you’re a miner who barbecues, you may as well start acting like a horrible person on December 26. You’ll be grillin’ steaks for DAYS with all the fire fuel you’ll receive.

6.  Santa will not break and enter. 

Santa doesn’t break the laws.  You can’t have Father Christmas picking front door locks, or breaking living room windows.  That’s risky stuff. Bad Christmas PR.  By process of elimination, the chimney is the only other way in, so, sorry bro.  Hope your suit is fire-proof.

Christmas is also the one day of the year where it would not be weird to wake up in the middle of the night and find an old man dressed in a red bathrobe/sweatsuit come out of your chimney and start arranging presents under a tree in your living room.

7.  His reindeer eat carrots. He eats cookies. 

Automatic coal delivery to people who forget the milk.  Same with people who give store bought cookies.  Santa’s bionic nose knows a processed chocolate chip from a home made delight. And he doesn’t reward procrastination.

8. There will be sweaters.  They will be ugly.

What better way to say, “Happy Birthday!” than with a knit sweater picturing an overweight man in a red suit riding on a sleigh with flying deer? The short and long answer is: There is not a better way to say Happy Birthday than with a knit sweater picturing an overweight man in a red suit riding on a sleigh with flying deer. Period.

There will also be pajamas.

There will also be pajamas.

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Bells and all.

They sat back, happy with their creation, and passed down the tradition at each family gathering, and it has become Christmas as we know it.  (I sincerely hope you did not read this and expect anything rational or remotely well thought out.)

With that said, Happy Holidays, my dudes 🙂

xoxo, Pete

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