DEAR SANTA:
Eleanor T. here. Why don’t I cut right to the chase?
I don’t like you—I never have. My first memory as a child of Santa Claus was you not showing up when I mailed you my one-item Christmas list: a new baby doll (white or black—I didn’t care) that had never been used. Which meant, a doll that didn’t have half its hair plucked out, or just one eyeball in place, and wasn’t completely naked. The doll never came, and you never showed. Even at six years old, I kind of suspected you’d punk out because we didn’t have a chimney for you to shimmy down where I lived on skid row.
Then when I first heard the song, “Santa Claus is coming to town” in the county orphanage where a circuit court judge had tossed me in the middle of the night, I knew you were full of prunes. During my first Christmas in that “abandon all hope, all ye who enter here” placeholder of my life, I concluded you had determined that I was on your constant naughty list. It didn’t take long for me to realize that if you did exist, you needed to change your MO. I’ve got no problem with you holding people accountable, but you picked on the wrong people group—both then and now. So, here’s an idea: If you want to use your powers for good, how about establishing a new naughty list? BTW: Children should have nothing to do with your manipulative naughty list. Adults only!
I’ve got plenty of horrid people that should end up on your naughty list and you wouldn’t have to check twice to know they are bad to the core and very undeserving of presents. It’s a given that Donald Trump would be at the top of the list. Add to that naughty list: Kanye West (hater of Jews), Nicholas J. Fuentes (White Supremacist, hater of Jews, Blacks, and anyone with melanin in their skin), and Steve Bannon (misogynist, misanthrope, and racist to the core). You can start with them first. I have a 500-page book of names I can provide for you.
Santa, it goes without saying that Vladamir Putin should top your naughty list. He should precede Trump. Don’t bother giving Putin a lump of coal, just fix it so that he loses the war against Ukraine and gets a one-way ticket to Hell. I bet the children of Ukraine wouldn’t mind skipping toys for Christmas if you gave them their parents and their homes back. Trust me. I know of what I speak.
But I state the obvious. If you’re a bit timid about how to rebrand yourself, you can start with the small things, like attitudes. Bring back kindness. Remember how you first started out way back in Patara (modern day Turkey) in the fourth century. Then you were known as Nicholas of Bari, and you were very admired for your kindness and generosity. According to Britannica, you became known as the “patron saint of children, sailors, unmarried girls, merchants, and pawnbrokers”. Legend has it that you rescued three girls in poverty who were being forced into prostitution because they didn’t have marriage dowries. Supposedly you gave their parents enough gold to purchase said dowries and the girls were able to get married. Viola—no hos for the bros! What a story. I recently read (although I find this very hard to believe—understanding how science works and all) that you restored the bodies of three children who had been chopped up by a butcher and put in a tub of brine. Apparently, after you reassembled them, you brought them back to life. (Okay, Santa—way to go!)
The point is, given your history, putting unkind people on your naughty list until they repent shouldn’t be too hard for you. In America, we’ve become very mean SOBs. As the song says, “…we need a little Christmas, just this very moment.”
Finally, I’ve had it with the guns killing innocent people—especially our children. Santa, why don’t we make a deal right here and now, that anybody who sends out Christmas cards with pictures of their family sporting AR-15s, as a congresswoman did one year, gets on your priority naughty list with a slip-and-slide into Hell for a stocking stuffer. In fact, while you’re at it, put any politician, the NRA, and gun makers who refuse to modify the gun laws to protect our citizens onto a top priority naughty list.
There you have it! Hope this helps. Also, can you do me a personal favor and give a little shout out to the God whose birthday Christmas represents? (Listen, you owe me, Kris!) I personally think you’ve hogged the glory from the birthday king for years now. Not too long ago, a survey was taken in the UK of kids 6 – 13 and at least half of them thought December 25th was to celebrate your birthday. The other half thought Jesus was the name of a football (soccer) player. Seriously, Dude?
As the song* says, did YOU ever “appear and the soul felt its worth”? When YOU squeezed down the chimney, did the world’s peeps experience a “thrill of hope” that made “the weary soul rejoice”? When YOU got fat off the Xmas cookies left for you, did you stay around to teach us “to love one another” because “His law is love and His gospel is peace”? Did YOU leave notes in our stockings that proclaimed “chains shall He break for the slave is our brother” (that would have been handy during Reconstruction when you first made your recorded appearance in the United States)? Furthermore, if I proclaim the name “Santa Claus”, will that cause the declaration in the heavenlies that “in His name all oppression shall cease”? No, I don’t think so. Bend the knee, Bro, ‘cause you’re a poser compared to the true meaning for the season. (Deep down in your heart, I think you know that.) Therefore, Santa Claus, put a little sack of kindness and love in each of our stockings this year, and maybe I’ll forgive you for your slighting of my childhood. In the meantime, Merry Christmas to you and peace on Earth to all mankind! *Oh Holy Night, by Placide Cappeau (1808-1877)
Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a satirist who is an award-winning voice-over performer. In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!). Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.” Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker. If you don’t believe me, just ask her!
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how the hell did i end up here? 