Let's Put Christ Back Into Xmas, You Worthless Sonsabitches™

At this time of the year, WisdomoftheEast gets hopped up on Jesus and girds his loins as the retail jihad makes its inexorable way up the ureter en route to the bathroom mirror.

One Christmas season long ago, Santa was getting ready for his annual circum- navigation with particular emphasis on Soggy Labia™, home of the Meccaneers, a farm team Santa had a ten percent stake in.

But there were problems. Four of his elves were down with the clap and the trainee elves did not produce toys as fast as in Guangzhou where they were being dipped in strychnine-laced kryptonite. Santa was beginning to feel the pressure.

Then Mrs. Claus broke the news her 92 year-old skank of a mother was coming to visit.

Santa went out into the workshop and had a few pulls off the "secret" bottle of vodka hidden in the back of the Kelvinator's freezer compartment.

Then, when he went to harness the reindeer, he found that two of them were about to give birth and three had jumped the fence and were AWOL, the dirty flea-ridden sonsabitches.

Then when he began to commence loading the sleigh, one of the boards cracked and the toy bag fell to the ground, scattering broken toys across the floor of the workshop.

Throwing up his hands in despair, Santa returned to the Kelvinator for another secret series of pulls on the Absolut.

Standing under the now vertically upturned bottle, he discovered the elves had gotten shitfaced on what had remained of its contents, the rabid little cocksuckers. Santa was outta jetfuel.

Then he accidentally dropped the bottle. It broke into hundreds of little pieces across the workshop floor. He went to get the broom and found that mice had eaten the straw leaving a quarter-inch stubble.

Just then the doorbell rang.

Santa cursed the day he was born all the way to the door.

There stood a small angel holding a gargantuan Christmas tree towering over his/her/its head.

"Merry Christmas, Santa!" she blurted in terminal perkytude. "Isn't it just a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Isn't it just lovely? Where would you like me to put it?"

Thus began the tradition of sticking the angel on top of the Christmas tree.