Dear Scroogey Non-Believers,
I’ve been talking with My boys and We feel it’s high time someone paid some attention to Us during the holiday season. Not only because We feel terribly marginalized by this War On Jesii’s Birthday We keep hearing so much about, but because of that SOB, Santa Claus.
One of the things that you probably don’t know, because you are not and can never be members of the Deity Clubbe, is that you don’t have to be an all-powerful, all-knowing, super-badass, world-striding, dinosaur-riding uber-mensch like Myself to be a member of the Clubbe. According to the bylaws, all you have to do is perform one bona-fide miracle and have at least 12 followers. Now, when I say “bona-fide miracle” I don’t mean like those 3rd-rate copycats Peter and Maximus The Confessor and Theodore The Studite. I’m talking about the real deal.
Unfortunately, delivering toys to every good boy and girl in the world during one 24-hour period counts.
Don’t get Me wrong. Santa’s not a bad guy, personally. If you can get past the “Ho, Ho Ho” and the “Santa’s piles are really acting up this year” and the tendency to refer to Himself in the 3rd person. No, He’s generally alright, and He does share the cookies. The problem is that He’s clearly intruding on My turf… er, My boys’ turf. It’s Their birthday, after all.
Actually, the real problem, (I don’t mind telling you, since you’re My Chosen People), is that Claus – and by the way, I knew Him when He was plain old Kris-fucking-Kringle – is making a sack full of cash that ought to be going to My vacation fund. I don’t begrudge Him all the pre-pubescent brand-loyalists. Hell, they all come over to Me in the end. He’s like a gateway drug to Me. However, all those parents are spending money on weed that ought to be going to crack. You see what I mean?
And don’t even get Me started on the markup. Do you think it costs Him $30 to make a Sing-a-Long-Spider-Man? Your Aunt Fanny’s carbuncle it does! So I want all of My Chosen People who aren’t living in their cars right now to do something for Me. In fact, since I don’t want anyone weaseling out, I’m going to make this official.
1:1 Yea, verily I say unto thee, thou art My Chosen People.
1:2 If thou dost love The Lord, Thy Gawd (and you’d better) thou wilt go forth unto all the land two by two and three by three – yea unto seven by seven and not neglecting one by one,
1:3 And thou shalt buy gifts manufactured by and for your fellow Chosen People.
1:4 Thou shalt deprive the Dirty Thieving Usurper of His un-Gawdly markup.
1:5 And there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth at the North Pole. For which The Lord, Thy Gawd shall be grateful – but not in a crass material way.
2:1 Go thou forth and buy Holiday Cards.
2:2 Go forth and buy The Quotable Atheist. And thou canst quote Me on that.
2:3 Go unto all the stores and purchase The God Who Wasn’t There.
2:5 Thou shalt also buy outerwear with amusing statements printed thereon. But not tacky caps, or thou shalt taste the back of My hand.
2:6a Oh, and thou may show a little love to Saint Chuck, if thou wanst. But it’s more a suggestion than a command, like the rest… est.
3:1 Thou shalt support cool stuff. Seriously.
3:2 If thou art feeling cheeky, thou shalt sign up Santa Claus with Bod4Gawd literature, the obese, hemorrhoidal SOB. It shall make The Lord, Thy Gawd laugh and laugh and score thou Brownie Heaven Points©.
3:3 The Lord, Thy Gawd has spoken, so go thou already if thou knowst what’s good for thee.
Wish You Were Here,