In his short story ...And Three Rabid Pigs, David Gerrold spins the legend of a monster that roams the land on Christmas Eve, bringing misfortune, pain, suffering, and death to all the bad boys and girls. Dressed in black, this creature of doom, formed by all the evil that ran rampant on the night Jesus was born, roams the land in underground tunnels in a black sleigh drawn by rabid pigs. This creature is the alter ego of our beloved Santa Claus-- Satan Claus. I now spin for you a tale of a different Satan Claus, one with which we are all familiar. A Satan Claus that doesn't only come around at Christmastime. A Satan Claus better known as Corporate America.
Each year right after Halloween, stores around the country begin putting up Christmas decorations and advertising for early Christmas specials. They bombard us with images of Santa Claus and his reindeer, elves, Frosty the Snowman, and any other new character they can invent to draw in more money. Weeks before Thanksgiving, mall parking lots are draped with tacky garlands and tinsel-covered cardboard cut-outs of well known Christmas characters. As we walk through the stores, Christmas carols pelt us from the loudspeakers, leaving the American people sick of the holiday and ready to be done with it well before December 25th rolls around.
These are the deeds of the true Satan Claus. He does not roam the world in dank tunnels; he wanders through our city streets with us, slithers through the local malls beside us. He parks his sleigh-- a shinny black Mercedes Benz-- right next to our cars in the parking lots. He brings a different form of suffering, destruction, and death-- greed, bills, and debt. Instead of scaring little children with his pigs and darkness, the real Satan Claus terrifies adults with the threat of bankruptcy. Just as we once loved Santa Claus in our youth, so do we grow to fear Satan Claus later in life, even if we did not have a name for him until now.
At first, Santa Claus was just something additional for the young child who was unable to fully grasp the meaning of Christmas. Santa brought him a gift or two if he was good, just enough to tide him over while the adults prayed and gave thanks for things he couldn't comprehend. And this all worked out pretty well. Things were fine and dandy-- peachy even. But then the kid got older and could understand that the 25th of December was a day set aside to give thanks to Jesus and to be grateful for all that he had done.
Yeah. So? All the brat wants to know is whether or not Santa Claus is still coming. He could care less about the meaning behind the day, he just wants toys. Thus Satan Claus steps in and takes over the kid's soul. From now on, the kid's mail goal in life will be to collect as many Earthly possessions as he possibly can. He climbs that good old Ladder of Success as fast as he can, not caring about those he tramples in his rise to power, fame, and glory. He studies tediously the Stock Market as he sits in the comfort of his home in Beverly Hills, making sure that no one steals his power. He will do everything he can to keep himself on top of things. He writes check after check in that fancy home of his and as he does, Satan Claus grows stronger and stronger, the real meaning of Christmas shoved further and further into the recesses of the twerp's twisted mind.
But the little brat isn't the ony one effected by Satan Claus. None of us are safe from this monster. Seemingly, there is nothing we can do to stop him. Perhaps there is nothing to do. Perhaps, no matter what we try, Satan Claus will still roam the country weeks before Thanksgiving, painting our towns red and green and plastering them with those cheesy images America has grown up with. He might still cram as many ads as he can into the three minute spaces stuffed into cartoons in order to send our kids on the path to becoming greedy bastards. But perhaps there is soemthing that can be done, some way to stop Satan Claus from claiming any more of our mortal souls.
We must, as adults, set a better example for the generations coming after us. Until they reach their teenage years, most kids look up to their parents. They take to heart a majority of what older people say on the pretense that older people are somehow wiser. And they see us, at Christmas, selling our souls to Satan Claus. Shouldn't they sell their souls, too? Shouldn't they scramble through the stores in a mad dash to find the perfect gifts as they see us doing? Shouldn't they buy the fanciest gold embossed Hallmark cards they can get their hands on in order to rub their accomplishments in their friends' faces? Shouldn't they host tree decorating parties, cover long, rented buffett tables with extravangent foods, get their guests drunk off of expensive imported wins, and play a rendition of some Christmas tune by whichever pop star happens to be the rage at the time while their guests dance in snazzy over-priced clothes?
Satan Claus would like them to think they should. He thrives on this kind of behavior. Attitudes like these keep him alive, give him fresh, new souls, and allow him to continue on his reign of terror. But we must reteach these kids how to celebrate the holiday. We must drill into their minds that gifts are merely something extra. We must show them the other side of Christmas. The side many of our parents grew up with, the side some of us even grew up with. We must give them the gift of tradition. No the "I've been good, gimmie toys" tradition, but the tradition of family and friends. The tradition of going to church on Christmas morning, coming home, and fixing an almost grandois meal for family and a few close friends. The tradition of keeping the spirit of Christmas alive even as we tear into brightly colored wrapping paper in anxious anticipation of what Aunt Mae gave us this year. These are the traditions that will keep our children out of the reach of Satan Claus; the traditions that will allow them to keep their souls a little longer.
--Bitch Cappy