It’s Time to Revolt Against an Unjust Santa System
That old Christmas codger shouldn’t be the boss of us.
My name is Bobby and I’m going to get coal in my stocking this year.
“How do you know you’ll get coal, Bobby?” you ask. “Perhaps you’ll get peppermint sticks or a toy train!”
Ha, you dense adult. I’m not going to get candy or toys. Santa has it out for me. I get coal in my stocking every year. I’m not even a bad child! I’m average at best. There are days when I don’t make my parents cry. Sure, I’ve broken three windows playing baseball in the house, but I also washed a dish one time. Yeah, I frequently poop in the backyard and blame it on the dog, but the dog doesn’t care. It’s a victimless crime.
Why, the other day my baby sister sneezed in my face and I didn’t pull her hair. Lots of other kids totally would have pulled her hair, but I have willpower. In a fair society all the good stuff I do would balance out the bad.
But we don’t live in a fair society, do we? It’s time to start asking some serious questions about this whole Santa scheme. What gives Santa the moral authority to decide who is good and who is naughty? Just because he happened upon a few flying reindeer and enslaved them to his will, he gets to rule on complex ethical conundrums? I’d argue that Santa, a man who openly admits to spying on children, shouldn’t be entrusted with the roles of judge, jury and executioner while our presents hang in the balance.
My parents force me to attend church every Sunday and, while I spend most of that time scrunching down in the pew and playing video games, I’m still pretty sure the preacher said that only God has the power to judge me. Well, God and I had a little tête-à-tête the other evening before bed and He told me it’s totally cool if I carve the bathroom soap into a shiv. What do you think about that, Santa? You think you’re better than God?
If that wasn’t bad enough, there’s that damn elf sitting on the shelf with his smug smile and inexplicably thin legs. I’m aware of his role in Santa’s whole mafiesque stratagem. This morning I cut his legs off with my mom’s good sewing scissors. Perhaps that was naughty behavior, but I’d argue that “one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws.” Who said that? Oh, just a fellow named Martin Luther King Jr. Some folks around here seem to think he had a lot of moral authority.
Checkmate, Santa. Check. Mate.
We need to dismantle this system where kids are rewarded for good behavior. Shouldn’t good behavior be its own reward? I can’t change this apparatus on my own, but with the help of a few adults, perhaps we can ensure that even the naughtiest of naughty kids still get to experience the joy of a full stocking. No more coal. No more blackmail. No more tears on Christmas morning.
BTW, I want a air rifle.
