“DEAR DR. SNEE: I am 8 years old.
“Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
“Papa says, ‘If you see it on SERIOUSLYGUYS it’s so.’
“Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?
“VIRGINIA O’HANLON.
“115 WEST NINETY-FIFTH STREET”
VIRGINIA, your little friends are buttf#%king morons, maybe even retarded. In either case, they have at least been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except [what] they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men’s or children’s, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
In other words, everyone (but me) is full of s@#t, so it’s a good thing you wrote me.
Oh, yes, Virginia, there’s a Santa Claus alright; but not in that abundance of joy and love and generosity metaphorical sense. He’s as real as VIRGINIAS are real … although they’re usually C-list actresses and 90-year-old war widows, but that’s your parents’ fault, not yours.
Think about it for a minute, Virginia. Where do you think those toys come from every December 24th? You could buy into some post-9/11 conspiracy about your parents and the government lying to you, giving you Barbies and bikes just so you’ll toe the line for another year. And, yes, they admittedly look like the toys you can buy in your local Wal-Mart, and there’s a great reason for that: they are the same toys at Wal-Mart.
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in chupacabras! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove?
Santa knows when you are sleeping and when you’re awake. He lives in one of the most remote regions of the world, so remote that presidents and polar bears alike have been unable to catch him. He has a limitless supply of free labor (slaves) and exploits animals. What makes you think your Papa’s got the skills? And, what makes you think Santa would waste those resources on toy manufacturing?
You may tear apart the baby’s rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Fortunately, I am really freakin’ strong. Like, each of my abs has its own smaller six-pack.
Follow me further down the rabbit hole, Virginia. As former President Dwight Eisenhower left the Oval Office in 1961, he warned the American people–a.k.a. the world–about the military industrial complex. What else happened in the ’60s, Virginia? (No, really, what did happen? Everyone I ask about them doesn’t seem to remember a thing.)
Oh, I know: supersonic jets. Stealth technology. Space exploration.
Sound familiar? It’s only how Santa does his work: sneaking across borders and into homes, traveling faster than a speeding bullet and occasionally reversing the Earth’s orbit to gain more time if he falls behind.
How much money do you think there is in military research, Virginia? Would you say “a lot?” Would you daresay “more than in wooden and lead toys?” That’s why Santa hasn’t made a toy since the Chinese already put their own elves to work. (We call them “unwanted daughters,” Virginia. Try not to bug Papa so much when he has his Saturday morning headache.)
No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood … and arm the free world against commie sons of b$@ches and mujahaf&%kheads.