i heart john waters. i am certain that this quote comes from his selection from this collection, and i love him like the festivus pole for it:
“But if you think about it, Santa Claus is directly responsible for heroin addiction. Innocent children are brainwashed into believing the first big lie their parents ever tell them, and when the truth finally hits, they never believe them again. All the stern warnings on the peril of drugs carry the same credibility as flying reindeer or fat men in your chimney. But I love Santa Claus anyway: all legends have feet of clay. Besides, he’s a boon to the unemployed. Where else can drunks and fat people get temporary work? And if you’re a child molester-eureaka! The perfect job clutching youngsters’ fannies and chuckling away, all the while knowing what you’d like to give them.
Of course, to many, Santa is an erotic figure, and for these lucky revelers, the Christmas season is a smorgasbord of raw sex. Some people just go for a man in uniform. Inventive entrepreneurs should open a leather bar called the Pole where dominant wrinkle fetishists could dress like old St. Nick and passive gerontophiliacs could get on all fours and take the whip like good reindeer. Inhaling poppers and climbing down mock chimneys or opening sticks ‘n’ stones from the red-felt master could complete the sex-drenched atmosphere of the first S&M Xmas bar.
You could even get fancy about it. Why hasn’t Bloomingdale’s or Tiffany’s tried a fancy Santa? Deathly pale, this never-too-thin-or-too-rich Kris Kringle, dressed in head-to-toe unstructured, oversize Armani, could pose on a throne, bored and elegant, and every so often deign to let a rich little brat sit near his lap before dismissing his wishes with a condescending, ‘Oh darling, you don’t really want that, do you?” (14-15)
as much of a christmas hater as i have been-i’ve caught myself singing christmas carols and slowly bending towards the idea of a family christmas (that is my actual family to be). i still maintain that santa claus is the deadbeat dad of the world tho-he fathers all of us and we only hear from him once a year-we wait up all night to catch a trace of him, only to get left some crumbs and the hint that he (or a rat) may have been there. fuck you, santa.