Santa is one scary mother-licker. First off, his name is an anagram of 'satan'. (Need I even continue? I mean, really.) He's portrayed as this altruistic, jolly old man, but you have to realize that children at certain ages don't particularly have the concept of Santa down yet -- but yet YOU, reader, insist on flinging your bundles of love into this strangers lap and insist on documenting the sheer terror in your little wonder's eyes with your Polaroid as you're beseeching them to 'MAN UP' and slap on a smile. Even if your child does have the concept of Santa down, it shouldn't relieve them any. "You mean a morbidly obese man goes airborne, busts up into our home Kool-Aid Man style, ganks our milk and cookies and left me nothing last year but this crappy sweater that says 'i love my G-ma? On top of that, you want me to sit on his lap this year as you reach for your Polaroid so you can always re-live the moment that I hated you most?'
There's a different Santa in every mall rocking the not quite white, not quite right, semi-yellow molester-stache who's itching to strangle your child (and possibly itching other obvious areas) but needs the paycheck so he can afford the presents to play this charade with his grandchildren this year as well. (That's best-case scenario of his motive for this job.) So the vicious, unnecessary cycle continue for the sake of tradition (or to fulfill your sadomasochistic needs). Every year you subject the children to this, probably to put them through the same hell you had undergone at the wrath of your passive-aggressive parents who were too scared to spank your spoiled ass and consequently felt a sort of schadenfreude-like satisfaction for watching you writhe at the hands of this demon.
So maybe that's not your motive. Maybe you genuinely want your children to be 'children' and enjoy the fantasy of this whole thing and all that comes with it -- nevermind that your little tyke just performed the five-point-palm-exploding-heart technique on St. Nick. So, at which point does your fondness of their believing in fairy-tales supercede the responsibility you have to ensure you don't actually fuck the kids up for good? When they're not afraid anymore? Do you really want to find junior in the closet Christmas morning, nervously bobbing back and forth, with a makeshift candy-cane crucifix? Santa hates your children almost as much as they hate you.
Actually, these are kind of great. I think I get why parents do this now. More please...
Credit for some photos
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