December 7, 2015 by timbuckler
Let me start of by saying that Father Christmas IS real. Ok kids? Everything else in this article is a lie and we are just theorizing what the world would be like without any magic because grown-ups like to do boring things like that. So if any of you nippers are reading this don’t worry, there is such a thing as Santa Claus. Stop reading now my little chickadees because the rest is boring.
They gone to bed? Cool, now lets talk about the true meaning of Xmas. Presents! That’s not me being a silly tit, that is what I honestly believe the point of Crimbo is.
Sure we sing songs about the baby Jesus and it teaches us the valuable lesson of not letting virgins give birth in barns, however it’s the presents, the food, the music and the laughter that we share with each other that expresses our love for our fellow man and woman and brings the festive spirit to the mid-winter festival.
If you’re one of those people who believes that Christmas has become over commercialised then I respect your decision and I hope you have a good time sitting on your carpet drinking your cabbage soup. Just stay the fuck away from me whilst I am munching on chocolates and watching Doctor Who.
Of course, it’s the kids that get the best deal because they have yet to become miserable pricks who have outgrown toys. Some of us are lucky enough to still find overpriced bits of plastic exciting (if The Doctors new Sonic Screwdriver is released in time it is going straight to the top of my list) but all you other losers seem to be content with jumpers and aftershave. That’s fine, just stay the fuck away from me whilst I’m eating my Turkey sandwiches and reading my new Batman comics.
That is why it breaks my heart when I see this after typing these three letters, IS S, into Google.
I love the Internet. I feel blessed that I live in an age where I can find the answer to any question with a few clicks of a button. But we have to realize this upcoming generation was BORN with this power. My friend’s two year old stumbled up to his living room TV the other day and tried changing the channels by swiping the screen. My boss’s four-year old is already level 18 on Battlefront and he only got it yesterday, I’ve been playing it for a week and I’m only on 11! The children are the future and this forthcoming lot is pretty much the next step in human evolution.
To have that much information straight from the cradle means they will grow smarter and the lack of Father Christmas is an incredibly sad thought. Sure, there are plenty harsh truths for them to discover, but I remember thinking the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny was malarkey from the get go, I just kept my mouth shut for coin and choccys.
Santa didn’t suffer on a cross in order to guilt trip you into being a good person. He didn’t sit under a tree until he was enlightened yet became too smug to tell you the answers to life, expecting you to work it out for yourself. Look at this picture.
If you decide to dress up in this style at your work do I would probably think you are a bit of a twat but I’m pretty sure no St. Nick extremist will hunt you down AND BLOW YOU THE FUCK UP FOR IT.
Father Christmas’s message is simple. Be good and you will be rewarded, be bad and you can go fuck yourself. That is a more important lesson than anything taught by any ancient texts that were put in place to control the bewildered and idiotic.
I’m sorry. I’m not one of those miserable atheists who condemn other people for having faith. If it helps you in life and you don’t hurt others then believe whatever you want. I can’t judge, I haven’t reached the end of my regenerations yet so I couldn’t tell you what happens when we shed this mortal coil. Just stay the fuck away from me when I’m gobbling down my popcorn and watching Star Wars. (Seriously, nothing pisses me off more than when someone tells me the Force is a metaphor of God. It isn’t. The Force is everything, the rock, the tree; it binds us and brings us together. The Force is life, The Force is death, it’s the vibrations that make up existence, luminous beings are we, not this crude matter…but that is another blog for another day.)
When did I personally stop believing in the jolly red fat man? I couldn’t put an age on the precise time of my life but now I think about I actually stopped believing a long time before I told anyone. I wanted it to be real so badly I just played along. I kept writing my list and leaving the milk and carrots. If I had it my way I would still wake up on Christmas morning with presents in a pillowcase at the end of my bed.
Why would children want to stop this amazing game where you get so excited you can barely sleep and you awaken to these things that you want more than anything in the world wrapped in colourful paper!? It’s something that is too awesome to question! So despite being able to find out the answer I don’t think most children will bother checking. However they will certainly look at boobies, so brace yourself for that awkward conversation.
But here is the thing. Father Christmas IS real. $371 is the average amount spent on an American child at Christmas. That’s $5,936,000,00 spent in Kris Kringle’s name in the US alone. He is used by companies like Coca-Cola to sell their goods to the young and old, and he is the basis for novelty tat like those horrible costumes we were talking about earlier. Father Christmas is more important and has had more of an impact on the world than me, you or anyone you know. That means he is more REAL than me, you or anyone you know.
Yes, Father Christmas is real.
And so is The Batman.
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Tim Buckler will return…