Well, boys and girls, here’s your annual letter from Santa Claus. I have to say, looking at the way people have been moping around, I’m trying to bring a bigger dose of Christmas Cheer this year. But it hasn’t been easy, and while I may have taken a scolding tone last year, I need your help.
That’s right, Santa needs your help. I need you to spread the Christmas Cheer. It’s not often that I ask for help, but this year I need it more than ever.
Let me explain why.
My whole naughty/nice tracking system got hacked by those ‘Anonymous’ jerks, so the data’s not even reliable. I mean, seriously? I’m trying to make five year olds happy for one morning of the year and you can’t let that happen? I didn’t do anything to you!
Of course, with access to the system they published to the elves what my net worth is. It’s a lot. After all, I’m in the business of giving things away to people. Since no one is satisfied with hand-crafted anymore, I’ve had to modernize and the elves have an entire stock and trade division so that I can get the same Transformer off the shelf that little Warren wanted. After all, he was a good boy, and I want him to be happy.
But once the elves saw what my net worth was, they flipped out and started questioning me.
You try explaining to people with a limited understanding of economics the difference between “worth” and liquid assets. It’s like Jed Clampett getting upset that Mr. Drysdale can’t show him his giant pile of money.
Do you people have any idea what it costs nowadays to run an operation like this? Take the presents out of it. I’m running a liveable habitat on the North Pole. I have a whole tech department dedicated to running the jamming countermeasures so that we aren’t found. That ain’t cheap.
I have to have a security force as well, because you really think ol’ crazy-pants in Iran doesn’t want to bomb me? By the way, UN, those sanctions sure are working out well. This is a Santa sleeping with one eye open. Not for myself, but for the elves. I have to think of their safety, too, not to mention Mrs. Claus. The poor woman.
Ol’ Santa’s Blues
But no, these Occupy people have to come up and mess with me. Apparently because I don’t live the life of a pauper during non-business hours, I’m part of The Problem. They’ve even convinced some of the slower elves that it’s in their interest to sit out work and then ask for more redistribution of Claus, Inc.
And I don’t have the heart to tell those elves that maybe – just maybe – they’re at the zenith of their ability, not the nadir. I reward people well enough. Of course I keep a little extra for myself; do you have any idea how much pressure I’m under 24/7/365?
A lot, for the record.
Why don’t you all go attack Warren Buffett? That guy’s worth more than me, and trust me he didn’t get it by staying on the “Nice” list.
Go after Apple – you gave them so much money for stuff they have more liquid assets than most governments. But then the second version of the third operating system for the second phone might get delayed? Who gives a care?
Frankly, I’m not sure who I’m supposed to help anymore; the guy who doesn’t have access to clean, hygienic facilities is where I want to spend my resources. But it’s getting hard to differentiate them from those that eschew those resources because they want attention. I used to visit McPherson Park in Washington, D.C., on Christmas Eve and give a little bit of extra help to the poor who huddled there.
Now mixed in are spoiled brats with iPads and iPhones, demanding that they should get more than they have. While they sit in a park that was occupied previously by those that couldn’t even afford a can of beans.
Talk about missing the message! The whole point of what I do is like Batman. I’m trying to inspire you all to give of yourselves so that people in general aren’t expecting a magical handout, whether it’s from myself or the government.
So there’s my message for this year: Help each other, and let that example inspire! Don’t waste your time with bureaucrats or career politicians. Get off your butt and go out and help at a soup kitchen. Sponsor a child. Do it yourself, stop waiting for someone else to do it for you.
And so to repeat my plea: Help me spread Christmas Cheer. When so many align to stop it, for their own selfish interests or need for attention, I need your help more than ever.
And since I can keep saying it before the panties-in-a-bunch crowd sues me: