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Santa is a monster.
He's a pile of red flags and you shouldn't ever let him into your house.
Santa is a demonic creature, a force of destructive evil.
I mean, look:
For one thing, he’s a total classist. He revels in denying treats to poor kids, and then gaslights them into thinking it’s their fault for “misbehaving.”
What a chode.
Santa is also an enabler of addiction. The dude jumps right into the middle of the holiday season, taunting people to spend themselves sick.
He’s gluttony anthropomorphized and bullying you from every window display. Jerk.
Furthermore, Santa is a manipulative creep. You better not shout? You better not cry? What kind of torture-happy monster says things like that?
A dude with control issues, that’s who.
And while we’re on the subject of control issues: the dude has the entire world walking on eggshells for month out of the year.
Nobody misses his presence in January.
And it’s not as if Santa is encouraging true kindness or goodness. Nope. Jus’t don’t MISBEHAVE. All stick and no carrot with this sack-o-trauma.
Forget Santa if you can and go be nice to somebody.
And if you can’t forget about the guy because you have to PLAY him, well, it’s no wonder that enabling nightmare has snuck into your mind and prompted you to get up to something sketchy like this:
Because don’t forget, Santa is a phantasm of capitalism, conjured to do the bidding of corporations under the guide of some vaguely pagan holiday.
Santa makes baby Jesus cry. Santa makes kids wet the bed in fear. But most of all, Santa makes money.
Oh yeah, when he’s not manipulating us to buying crap nobody needs, he’s embodying the Panopticon. You leave cookies out for Santa every time you visit a new website.
He’s vile. And relentless.
Meanwhile, if you’d like to bond during at the Solstice by giving gifts, ignore Santa and his taunts and just pay attention to your people.
They don’t want what Santa wants you to buy. They want what they want. Put down the bubble bath set and listen.
And if Santa tries to make you feel like you MUST be around others this season, no matter how many deadly cooties are airborne, how little you enjoy the company of the people you’re SUPPOSED to be with, or how fragile your immune system is—remember: you can only defeat Santa by being content.
You have what you need. You don’t need him to shove you into any more bad deals.
Begone, Santa. Back to the frigid tundra from hence you crawled. We’re good here, without you.
Reclaim the season. Ignore the nasty old man and his messages.
You have enough. You’re doing fine.