The Christmas Story
Who is Santa? An excuse for pedophilia. That’s not paranoia, that is prudence. Think about it: old sexually frustrated white male, breaking and entering serially, picking only homes inhabited by children he deems ‘good’, buying their silence with lavish gifts. Rather let Michael Jackson in your kids’ bedrooms than this freak.
Let us look at the origins of Santa Claus, the man, the myth, the sex-felon.
Santa Claus originated in America. He was originally drawn up as a feature for a Coca Cola advertising campaign. Is there need for more damning evidence?
Nothing good ever comes out of America. America’s sole purpose in the world is to spread depravity and wickedness, and to turn us all, all us righteous, God-fearing pagan savages, into self destructive hedonists, doing drugs, turning tricks, listening to and performing rap music, and saying “its like” four times per sentence.
Coca Cola are the parents of Santa Claus, they are his whoring mother and his pervert trenchcoat-man father. Coca Cola, the manufacturers and distributors of consumer narcotics.
Santa should be shot. Preferably with a Russian made sub-machine gun. The barrel of this gun should be angled in such a way that whatever bullet emanates from it should travel unerringly in a direct line into Santa’s colon, via his bum. Yes. And the shooter should be practiced in this speech, which he should deliver as he dispatches Santa to the realm of the colonically perforated. This is the speech: “Ho ho ho this, dickwad!” Say it with vim. Say it like you mean it, soldier!
You are doing this for the kids, remember.
But what will this achieve? Revenge for revenge’s sake? That is futile, wasted action. There must be tangible benefit visible at the end of the tunnel. Ah, but there is.
For starters, Santa will not be able to creep into our houses with the same impunity, because now, everywhere he goes he will leave a trail of sickly yellow crud from his leaking alimentary canal. The FBI will be able to track him down by following the trail.
Then they can catch him and reward him aptly for corrupting the morals of the new generation.
They will probably feed him what was left over from Britney’s famous “knee” operation. With a nice chianti. And some fava beans.
Let us look at the origins of Santa Claus, the man, the myth, the sex-felon.
Santa Claus originated in America. He was originally drawn up as a feature for a Coca Cola advertising campaign. Is there need for more damning evidence?
Nothing good ever comes out of America. America’s sole purpose in the world is to spread depravity and wickedness, and to turn us all, all us righteous, God-fearing pagan savages, into self destructive hedonists, doing drugs, turning tricks, listening to and performing rap music, and saying “its like” four times per sentence.
Coca Cola are the parents of Santa Claus, they are his whoring mother and his pervert trenchcoat-man father. Coca Cola, the manufacturers and distributors of consumer narcotics.
Santa should be shot. Preferably with a Russian made sub-machine gun. The barrel of this gun should be angled in such a way that whatever bullet emanates from it should travel unerringly in a direct line into Santa’s colon, via his bum. Yes. And the shooter should be practiced in this speech, which he should deliver as he dispatches Santa to the realm of the colonically perforated. This is the speech: “Ho ho ho this, dickwad!” Say it with vim. Say it like you mean it, soldier!
You are doing this for the kids, remember.
But what will this achieve? Revenge for revenge’s sake? That is futile, wasted action. There must be tangible benefit visible at the end of the tunnel. Ah, but there is.
For starters, Santa will not be able to creep into our houses with the same impunity, because now, everywhere he goes he will leave a trail of sickly yellow crud from his leaking alimentary canal. The FBI will be able to track him down by following the trail.
Then they can catch him and reward him aptly for corrupting the morals of the new generation.
They will probably feed him what was left over from Britney’s famous “knee” operation. With a nice chianti. And some fava beans.
Comments
Good stuff.