Santa’s Secret Shame

by on November 2nd, 2010
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Every holiday season, the American public is greeted with stories about how anti-Christian it is to speak about the holiday season. Please! As though Chanukah, Kwanzaa, or even New Year’s Eve could seriously interfere with Christmas’s cultural winning streak. Commercially speaking, though, Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without Santa. But I don’t remember reading about Santa in Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John, do you? Well, neither does the evangelical Right in America.

When half of the Republican Party is made up of tongue-speaking, heaven-seeking evangelicals and the other half is comprised of colorless, Mammon-believing middle managers, Old Saint Nick is bound to stir up conflict. Is Christmas about prophets or profits? Some anonymous so-and-so even wrote a poem about it:

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the House,
Not a Speaker was slurring (though Boehner was soused);
The only ones gathered leaned well to the Right,
To dive into eggnog post-payroll tax fight;
Conservatives nestled all snug in their seats,
so long as they have one more year ’till they’re beat;

The Party’s small soiree was getting collegial,
when suddenly leaped up a member vestigial,
Ron Paul spoke up with such sub-Randroid chatter,
You’d think the hypocrisy strains his gray matter:
“To Liberty, Capital, Jesus and Santa!”
He said, and then ordered another orange Fanta.

“Hold it!” cried Bachmann, her eyes all aglow,
(Such envy and frenzied frustration they show!)
“This Santa’s a hack, like that actor Paul Rudd,
Made by pagans who should’ve been drowned in the Flood!
Christmas commemorates Christ, and that’s all!
I swear by my husband’s embroidered prayer shawl!”

“False!” said another voice, “Santa is fine!”
“Heathen!” some fundie from Texas repined.
“Enterprise!” Tea Party cries, “or we’re hollow.”
Tea-bags reply, “No, it’s Christ you must follow!”
The Grand Old-palooza began to unravel,
And Boehner was too drunk to find his own gavel

When, what to the wondering House should appear,
But a miniature Reagan, on the helipad near,
“Now Josh, now Tagg,” Mitt said to his escorts,
“I’ve heard such disturbingly vicious reports,
Dissension has settled like Christmastime snow,
Making natural brothers appear more like foes,”

With a bag full of costumes, in the blink of an eye,
Mitt was suddenly Santa (in Brooks Brothers tie)!
And half of the House noted its disapproval,
which prompted the suit and red hat’s swift removal
And suddenly Jesus appeared in Mitt’s flesh,
Blessedly bland, like a bearded John Tesh.

From Mormon to normal, in costumes he flitted,
Every roar of dismay Romney swiftly outwitted,
“Just be who you are”, he said, “when it’s convenient.”
Santa Claus, Jesus – the standards are lenient -”
“Just play on their fears,” he cried, sprinting to his flight.
“Happy Christmas to me, ’cause I’ll win the whole fight!”

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