A New Weasel for Christmas

by Paul Caputo and Jeffrey Carl

Peculiar to the State

 

Hi.  We are Jeff and Paul.  We are the Two Wise Guys, and we bring Frankincense, Myrrh, and ... uh ... Cool Whip.

                  As mayoral candidates, we face the TOUGH issues.  Like Santa Claus.

                  Isn’t it about time we re-examined “Santa Claus,” alias “Kris Kringle,” alias “Father Christmas,” alias “Uncle Jesse?”  This reputedly jolly, obviously corpulent mystery man has held a monopoly on the Christmas Mascot business for hundreds of years.  And while he has been breaking and entering into millions of homes, supposedly delivering “gifts,” what do we really know about him? And why does he look so much like the late Jerry Garcia?  Nobody knows who this “Santa” (if that is his real name) is, where he is from – aside from an obviously fraudulent “North Pole” P.O. Box address – or even what his motivation is.  We figure he’s doing community service for an Elfnappingconviction.

                  And his clothes ... We don’t want to alarm you, but his blatantly “red” garb seems to smack slightly of INTERNATIONAL COMMUNISM IN YOUR CHIMNEY RIGHT NOW.

                  Furthermore, how did he become the symbol of a holiday intended to celebrate a very serious religious event?  Perhaps some people are disturbed at the thought of their children in a  Olde Towne Centre Malle sitting on the lap of a Major Religious Figure.  At any rate – since it is probably too demeaning to imagine Jesus having Elves instead of Apostles – Santa Claus was substituted to make the holiday seem less religious, and more oriented toward obese people and flying deer.

                  Santa’s record has been rocky at best. He faced bad press after breaking an Elf Strike by threatening to move the franchise from the North Pole to Baltimore.  “60 Minutes” exposed his habit of feeding Rudolph only Jack Daniel’s to make his nose red and that the white cuffs on his red suit and cap are made from the fur of baby seals he clubbed himself.

                  Santa was almost shot down by the Canadian Air Force in 1983, when they mistook him for a flock of Soviet geese.  His recent court appearance on a charge of Sleighing Under the Influence did not help matters, nor did his short-lived “TundraVision” cable network fiasco.

                  Santa reportedly turned to drinking after all of the water in his “Santa-Land North-Pole Water-Slide Fun-Park” froze and 38 children were encased in ice.  Not long thereafter, a USA Today poll revealed – in a weather map-shaped graph – that everything west of the Missippi is a bizarre shade of orange.  The poll also showed that only 3% of children believe in Santa.  The kids didn’t believe in Gerald Ford either, but that didn’t help Santa’s mood any.

                  Also, as a White Male Oppressor who hires midgets so he can claim them as tax write-offs, Santa is blatantly Politically Incorrect. He has also drawn fire for his policy among the elves of “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”  This is an enlightened era and so-called-Santa’s little “Reindeer Games” are over.  Please consider, Cheery Holiday State Reader, our comprehensive list of Alternate Christmas Mascots:

                  • Kathy Ireland in a Victoria’s Secret Mistletoe Negligeé: it would look much better on Coke glasses.  We’d like to be on her “naughty” list.

                  • Frosty the Snowman: a longtime “Yuletide” (Swedish for “fish?”  We don’t know.) favorite, he could come to the houses of good children everywhere, then melt on the carpet.  Disgusting.

                  • Erik Estrada, the Out-of-Work Actor: well, he needs a job.

                  • The Easter Bunny: tired of playing second-fiddle to some tubby guy with pint-sized laborers and a stable of airborne Norwegian mammals, he steps into his own.  He hops all over the world on Christmas Eve, and becomes very tired and bitter.  Then he throws his eggs at people’s houses, or leaves rabbit droppings in the stockings of bad children.

                  • David Hasselhoff: the good German kids who bought his albums would get the best presents. Anyone who actually bought the David Hasselhoff “They Love Me In Germany” Box Set would get one of the “Baywatch” Girls with Silicone Breasts “Action” Figures.

                  • Mopey, the Manic-Depressive Elf: for people who think all this seasonal happiness is a bunch of crapola.  Mopey would dress in black, come through the front window in his ‘63 Dodge DeSoto, completely drunk, and leave a note about how he sold the toys to pay his analyst. Then he would slip some Prozac in your stocking.

                  • A Big Inanimate Pile of Fruitcakes: a reminder that sometimes you don’t get what you wanted for Christmas.  In fact, sometimes you get fruitcakes, which nobody likes.  If fruitcakes could shoot themselves, they would.

                  • Creepy, the Clown Dentist: he’s not really suited to Christmas, but he would scare the HELL out of bad children.

                  • Waldheim, the Non-Flying Reindeer: jealous of his cousin Blitzen’s success, he would acquire Santa in a leveraged-buyout and have the other reindeer sold as Puppy Chow.  Also, he’s an ex-Nazi.

                  • And our personal favorite, “Slippy the Christmas Weasel.”  Slippy is a total degenerate.  He drinks.  He smokes.  Furthermore, he’s a weasel.  But he’s still cutesy enough for merchandising. On Christmas Eve, Slippy would lather himself up with vaseline and travel from house to house through sewage pipes, arriving at houses through toilets and shower heads, delivering sugar plums, shiny new toy trucks and oozing globs of sewer scum he picked up along the way.  He would leave little puddles of Zesty Ranch Dressing in the childrens’ stockings, whether they were bad or good or whatever.  He’s too drunk to care.

                  Imagine the joy of countless children, waiting up on Christmas Eve, staring maniacally at the chimney – only to discover “Slippy” slithering up through the drainpipes with his bag of Mutant Holiday Treats.  Imagine their peals of childish laughter and joy: “AIIIEEEEEEEEEE!”  Parents would greet this Bearer of Good Will, Gifts, and Infectious Diseases with a joyful “MY GOD, what is that THING?” while the young ‘uns delightedly called out, “DADDY, PLEASE SHOOT IT!!!” and “Slippy” playfully retched all over their carpet and passed out in a drunken stupor.

                  Then, with a wink and a nod and a wet, hacking cough, “Slippy” would be off to the next house to spread Holiday Joy and Large Ticks.

                  Of course, there are drawbacks: “Slippy” could not use the sleigh and traditional reindeer, because he would try to eat them.  And it would be tough to replace Santa’s jolly “Ho ho ho” with “Slippy’s” irritating high-pitched squeal. Most importantly, “Slippy” is still a weasel.  And that’s disgusting.  But with somebody named “Newt” in congress, who will notice?

                  In conclusion: wake up and smell the fruitcake, America!  Write your congressperson or congressweasel today and urge them to cut Santa’s federal appropriations.  End this senseless holiday discrimination against vermin. Santa’s day is done; let someone – or, someTHING – else take a shot at it.  Otherwise, after writing this, we’re getting coal in their stockings.

                  Merry Christmas, everybody.

 

HEY! Check out Jeff and Paul on the Internet at http://www.pluginc.com

 

©1995 Puff Carpluto