Here we are, gentlemen, mansack-deep in the holiday season. A time of goodwill, kindness, impending poverty/obesity and burgeoning suicide rates. (The former two apply only until the customary sales are implemented. At which point, people trample small children into the muddy, muddy ground and roundhouse kick pensioners in the thorax for a bargain or two. “I have precious little use for a scrotum shaver,” quoth one copiously bloodstained woman after the latest mall melee, with three eyeballs and half a testicle in her hands, “but it was 35% off!”)
Nobody exemplifies this holiday spirit better than Santa himself. The jovial fatass with the penchant for drinking Coca Cola with polar bears and wearing a outfit so flamboyant that he was once mocked by The Village People (“That’s too much camp!” the cowboy lamented, shielding his eyes. “Damn straight it is,” concurred the Indian. “Heh, straight.“) has become a bastion of the lighter side of folklore and mythology. It’s not all witches and goblins striving to eat our brains and set fire to our pubes and whatnot, sometimes these mythical dudes wish only to break into our homes, leave a vast array of gifts and piss off again. We’ll concede, last year he took the television and shat on the carpet instead, but that was probably a temp or something.
A noble cause if ever there was one, but much of this story constitutes OUTRAGEOUS LIES WITH LIES ON. This alleged great benefactor is a fraud. For the truth about Santa Claus (not the one you discovered in 1982 when you found your father passed out in a red suit/puddle of piss on the couch, a different truth), hit the gallery.
Behold this bizarre entry in The Toronto Sun, in which Santa did indeed become an official Canadian citizen.