Ever year, without question, we go along with the holiday spirit. We buy the gifts, we hang the lights – the whole tinsel-covered shebang. But after years of joyous monotony, why have we never asked ourselves why the heck we sit on a fat guy’s lap? From cakes that can’t go bad*, to mildly offensive candies, here are the weirdest things about the Christmas season.
Whoever decided people should kiss under a certain plant was a real creep. Maybe he** thought it would get him more smooches at parties. Or maybe he wanted to create a social experiment and see if people would be all, WTF, when he told them the décor’s purpose. Except no one ever did, and hundreds of years later people are still awkwardly kissing strangers. Whatever the original purpose, no thanks, everyone.
In the folklore that is Santa, why are elves making toys? How are they so good at it? Are they born with this master craftsmanship? And why does no one ever question authority? (Except aspiring dentist, Hermey.) They don’t even get to play with the toys! If that kind of loyalty existed around here, probably 100% of the population would hate their jobs since they were forced into the family business. Only elves are always happy, so we’d never know we were miserable.
Last I heard, canes were made for walking assistance, which has nothing to do with candy. At. All. One could even argue that the “holiday” candies are offensive to the walking impaired – surely an uproar would take place at the invention of Chocolate Crutches or Wafer Wheelchairs. And what’s with the stripes? Unless it’s zebra-themed, it just doesn’t make sense.
Sure I’m a real Scrooge McDuck here, but I HATE caroling. When you’re the one singing, it’s cold, boring, and you almost never want figgy pudding. (I’ve never tried it, so maybe just the once would be ok.) And when they come knocking on your door, it’s super awkward. How long do you have to stand there? Is clapping required? And it’s freezing out, yet you’re expected to keep the door open; being polite has never been so expensive.
Worst of all is the element of surprise. One’s home is supposed to be a pajama-friendly zone, not one where groups show up to view your un-matching plaids.
This guy – I don’t even know where to get started. Obviously he’s in bad health, his face is perpetually red and he eats nothing but cookies. No wonder he has to wear such forgiving clothes. Also, I’m not sure how he knows so much about everyone … but I guess it’s getting less creepy now that life stories are plastered on social media.
The sleigh I’m ok with, just because it’s original, but the chimney seems like a super messy way to pop in and out. Hasn’t he seen Mary Poppins? Chimneys are full of soot – after the first house he should be filthy … and coughing up a storm. Maybe his cheeks are red from a soot-fighting gas mask. All that adjusting is bound to leave a few marks, and it’s not like he can leave it on for public viewings; it would ruin the lore.
A picture of Santa in his mask is probably worth more than one of Kim Kardashian … holding the royal baby … on the Eifel Tower. (In the safe way, not the over-the-railing way.)
But the creepiest creep factor of all: the lap sitting. He knows if we’re good, why can’t he know what we want for Christmas? Even though he could read kids’ tiny little minds, they have to sit on his lap to tell what they want. And right in the middle of cold season. Last week on NCIS, tens of kids got sick after “Santa” returned from his overseas deployment and spread an African bacteria. The real Santa goes to every country in one night; there’s bound to be more diseases spread than just the one. And just because he’s wearing a mask doesn’t mean that furry suit isn’t soaking up every germ possible.
How has the CDC not put a stop to this?
When it comes to sharing wish lists with the big man, I think my little 2-year-old cousin got it right. The next time he shows up, get within yelling distance, plant your rear as firmly as possible, and yell “train” at the top of your lungs. He will hear you, I promise.
*Honorable mention: fruitcakes, AKA barf cakes, and poinsettias; winter plants shouldn’t need such specialized treatment against winter weather.
**Come on, you know this was a man’s idea.