Is it just me … or is there a Santa on every corner … in every mall … in every department store stuck in the back corner of the toy department?

Santa’s at December birthday parties … office Xmas parties.

There’s also a worldwide schedule for an event called “Santacon” … from Hong Kong-to-Delray-Beach-to-Paris, a Santa-inspired drunken mob pub crawl … where you dress like Santa and make a Xmas ass out of yourself.

But the real Xmas question is …

“Will the Evangelicals combat these Santa pagans … create a competitive worldwide “Jesuscon” pub crawl … and seat sweet Jesus in every mall?

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Even if you’re an old fat white guy with a beard … and can belt out a “Ho, ho, ho” … you might not be eligible to join the ranks of the highly trained and skilled jolly old saints of Xmas … much less join the ranks of the Fraternal Order of Real Bearded Santas!

Apparently there are Santas … and then there are “Santas.”

And to be in that “real Santa” category …  you need to go to Santa school.  Yep … you heard that right … Santas are trained, not born!

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According to a CBS News report the CWH Santa School in Midland, MI is “The Harvard of Santa schools.”  You too, can be an Ivy League Santa!

At a competitor school, first time Santas receive a Bachelor’s Diploma in Santa Clausology … your eyes are not deceiving you.

Second time attendees receive a Master’s Diploma … and those who can’t get enough of the “How to Enjoy your Cookies and Milk” course and return for more “Clausing” … receive an Advanced Master’s Diploma.

Only the advanced Santas are taught the intricacies of “How to Hold a Baby with Soaked Diapers and not Piss-off the Parents or Ruin your $800 Santa Suit” course.

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The bottom line in all this “Ho-ho-ho” stuff is that a good Santa leads to better business. Happy kids mean relaxed parents … relaxed parents translate into more money spent. A Santa or Ms. Claus who can charm the kids warms up the credit cards of the moms and the dads.

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I dunno … but commercializing Jolly Ole Saint Nick like this is truly disgusting.  I think my only recourse is to binge watch my two favorite Xmas movies … Billy Bob Thornton’s huge hits … “Bad Santa” and “Bad Santa-2.”

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In the immortal words of Clement C. Moore … Xmas Poet Laureate … “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

Just sayin’ …

Dear Santa,

My Mom told me I’m grounded until “Hell freezes over” … just because my dorky little brother ran into her bedroom crying and told her I said … “Santa Claus was dead.”

What a dirty little snitch.

Now I’ve got to come up with a way to convince him that you’re alive and well … and will visit him Christmas Eve. 

Any ideas?

Love … even if you’re really dead.

Donnie “Red” O’Banion

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Dear “Red,”

You deserve to be grounded until “Hell freezes over.”  You want proof that I’m alive and well?

I’m gonna visit your mom and give her some very special adult grape juice and five pounds of double chocolate truffles so she can self-medicate through Christmas.

Don’t worry if she sleeps-in Christmas morning.

As for you … it’s gonna be bricks, ashes and coal.  So I wouldn’t even bother to get out of bed.  Maybe you’ll be allowed out for Christmas 2019.

Oh, and for dear sweet little brother, Danny O’Banion … he’s getting all 13 things on his list … starting with a live pony. 

I may leave you a shovel for the shit you’re gonna have to dig out of to get ungrounded by adulthood.

Lose my address, Jerk.

Santa

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Dear Santa,

My name is Mary and I’m very, very sweet.  Everyone tells me so.

I know March is a little early to write to you … but, I wanted you to know just how good I’ve been.

I’m 9-years old and have been named “Student of the Month” for 36 straight months.  My mom has the stickers stuck all over the bumpers, doors and windows of her mini-van.

There is absolutely no reason why I shouldn’t expect to receive everything on my list.  I sent it to you alphabetized … by category… in order of my desire. 

Even your midgets … there’s no such thing as elves … should be able to follow it.

Please acknowledge my letter and your intention to come down my chimney Christmas Eve with my listed gifts. 

I’ve enclosed a postage-paid-self-addressed-envelope for you convenience.

Yours truly,

Mary Ruth Sarah Brownlee

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Dear Mary Ruth Sarah,

The sad fact is I do remember you.  How could I forget you … you grubby, little, brown nosing brat?

My special gift to you this year is a great big sack of “THE TRUTH!” 

Every teacher you had couldn’t wait for you to get out of their class.  I heard what they had to say in the Teachers’ Lounge … and believe me it wasn’t pretty … if you know what I mean!

Adults have your number and it’s not #1 … so there,  you little twit.

Hmmm, maybe this is the time I should tell you that one of my reindeer ate your list.

Ta, ta, brat.

Santa

PS … Elves do exist and they’re pissed at you, too … just one more reason no one, and I mean no one … likes you.

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Please note … these letters are a product of the internal machinations of my brain … Santa’s way, way nicer!

Just sayin’ …