December 25: Life’s a Beach

Funny thing about that leap from the bridge…

I hit the water and caught a whopper of an undertow…

…which swept me all the way to St. John. (St. Nick in St. John—sounds like a bad porno movie.) Long story short, I washed up on the beach and was greeted like a friggin’ God. How ‘bout them pineapples, Gilligan?

And now…I’m chillin’—but in a decidedly non-North Pole way. 

Merry Christmas and Cool Runnings, kids. BTW: that whole naughty/nice thing? Highly overrated. Santa’s new motto: if it feels good, do it. Claus out.

To find out how Santa got sacked, get your copy of his book here. It’s the perfect Christmas 2010 stocking stuffer!

December 24: ‘Twas the Night Before…

Decided to bite the bullet today. I swallowed my pride (and some leftover eggnog) and headed down to Macy’s to try to get a job…as Santa. Depressing? Check. Demeaning? Check. De-lowest-a-man-can-go? Check and mate.

I proceeded to stand in line for two hours with some of the sorriest characters ever put on God’s green earth: a motley crew of winos, meth-heads, and former Lehman Brothers traders. Finally, I make it to the front of the line and get told that Macy’s is only looking for “Santas of color” and “LGBT Santas,” whatever the hell they are. Everyone else can go home.

I’m pretty much at the end of my rope now. I stumble through Macy’s, getting nailed every ten feet by an out-of-work actor spraying cologne in my face until, blinded and weeping, I push my way through the revolving doors and step out on to the sidewalk…right onto a pile of dog crap.

So now I’m wandering down the street, reeking of Dolce & Gabbana, Paco Rabanne and Eau de Poo, and women are alternately drawn to me and then repelled by my aroma. I start rummaging through a trash can looking for a newspaper to wipe off my boot, when I hear a little girl say, “Look, Mommy, it’s Santy Claus!” followed by the mother’s reply: “That is not Santa, honey. That’s a homeless man who…whoa, sweet mother of pearl! A homeless man who just made a poopy in his pants!”

Well, I wasn’t going to let that one pass, so I wheeled around and yelled, “I am not homeless, and I did not just make a poopy in my pants! I’m Santa Claus, dammit! I lived at the North Pole, until those rat bastards at GigantiCorp threw me out on my ass! I should be at my Workshop right now, getting ready to bring presents to all you ungrateful little fuckers, but I’m too busy wiping dog shit off my shoes!”

Two words: Silent Night. Not a creature was stirring, until the little girl said, “Santa said the ‘d’ word, the ‘b’ word, the ‘a’ word, the ‘f’ word, and the ‘s’ word. Santa’s in trouble now!” Truer words were never spoken.

That, my dear friends, was the straw that broke the reindeer’s back. As the late great Dandy Don Meredith used to say, “The party’s over—turn out the lights.”

I took the last dog-eared dollar I had in my pocket, bought a package of Hostess Suzy Q’s, and toddled off in search of the highest bridge I could find. A half-hour later, my belly full of Devil’s food cake and sweet creme filling, I stood at the top of that bridge in the howling wind, looking down at the swirling currents below, and my mind was suddenly flooded with memories:

● Mrs. Claus.
● Mrs. Claus’s cankles. Ew.
● My dear, sweet Blitzen.
● Cookies and milk.
● Those annoying fucking elves.
● Heidi Klum (hey, I’m old—but I’m not dead…yet).
● The Great Blizzard of 1622 (when I first met Larry King).
● This killer margarita I once had in Playa Del Carmen (before it got ruined).
● Blitzen.
● The laughter of little children—except for this one asthmatic kid in Baltimore (he sounded like a goose getting waterboarded).
● The Wassail song. “Love and joy come to you, and to you your Wassail, too” always made me giggle.
● Ernie Keebler.
● Hitler.
● And that douchebag manager at IKEA.

Jesus, I thought, 970 years and that’s all I can come up with? What a bunch of crappy memories! I’m outta here! 

But as I stepped out on the ledge of the bridge, just about to jump, I saw the most beautiful light off in the distance. It was a glow like I’d never seen before: powerful, yet soothing, mesmerizing, and so, so peaceful. I was drawn to it like Willie Nelson to a flame. Transfixed, I climbed down from the bridge and followed that light. Was it the light people say you see before you die? Or…was it my salvation? Maybe the light of a new beginning for Claus, the light that would show me the way to my future?

I had to see what it was. I scrambled over hill and dale, over used condoms and empty 40 ounce malt liquor bottles, the light growing stronger and stronger with each step I took, until all that stood between me and that magical glow was a small stand of scrub oak trees. Joyfully, I ran through the little forest, tears streaming down my red cheeks, screaming, “I’m here! I’m here! Show me the way! I want to see my destiny!” I ducked my head under the branches of the last tree, and this is what I saw:

I’m going back to that bridge now. Ho Ho Ho, and Merry Friggin’ Christmas. 

To find out how Santa got sacked, get your copy of his book here. It’s the perfect Christmas 2010 stocking stuffer!

December 23: The Downward Spiral

Mrs. Claus thinks I should be collecting unemployment. Right. I can just picture my interview. Name? Santa Claus. Most recent address? The North Pole. Social Security Number? Don’t have one. Work experience? Bringing toys to all the little children of the world.

I’d be in a rubber room faster than you can say “Gary Busey.” 

So depressed. I got up this morning and greeted the day by scarfing down an entire Entenmann’s Lemon Loaf Cake while sitting on the couch in in my BVDs. Then I turned on The Today Show and had to endure 20 excruciating minutes of Tony Robbins talking about “How to Beat the Holiday Blues.”

Know what would help beat my holiday blues? Beating the crap out of Tony Robbins.

To find out how Santa got sacked, get your copy of his book here. It’s the perfect Christmas 2010 stocking stuffer!

December 22: The Problem With Ernie

“I have a love/hate relationship with Keebler. I love their Pecan Sandies, but I hate the Keebler elves. Trust me, they’re not good people. And Ernie Keebler? Huge anti-Semite. I’m just sayin’ — not good people.”

P.S. Speaking of elves, I nearly choked on my candy cane when I saw this the other day:


Really? Seriously? A musical about a freakin’ elf? Have we lost all perspective, people?

To find out how Santa got sacked, get your copy of his book here. It’s the perfect Christmas 2010 stocking stuffer!

December 21: Nog Me, Baby!

Couldn’t face the rat race after my little run-in with Johnny Law yesterday (plus, the restraining order is seriously limiting where I can go), so yours truly decided to stay home and raise himself a glass of holiday cheer.

Over the years, a lot of folks have asked me for my famous eggnog recipe, but I’ve always been too busy getting ready for “The Big Day” to tell them. Well, now that I’m sitting on my keister 24/7, and a “Big Day” for me is a “Murder, She Wrote” marathon on A&E, I finally have the time, so here goes:

Santa’s Egg-cellent Egg Nog

12 eggs, separated
6 cups milk
2 cups heavy/ thickened cream
2 cups bourbon
1+ 1/2 cups sugar
3/4 cup brandy
2 teaspoons ground nutmeg

● In a large bowl, beat the egg yolks together with the sugar for about 10 minutes—you want the mixture to be firm and the color of butter. (Note to self: refill Viagra prescription.)

● Stir in 1 teaspoon ground nutmeg. In a separate bowl, beat the cream with a mixer on high speed until the cream forms stiff peaks. (Note to self: refill Cialis prescription.)

● In yet another bowl, beat the egg whites until stiff peaks form. (Note to self: give it up, Claus. You’re 970 years old—your “stiff peaks” days are over!)

● Gently fold the egg white mixture into the egg yolk mixture.

● Gently fold the cream into the egg mixture, and garnish with the remainder of the ground nutmeg.

● Then throw that crap out, pour the bourbon and brandy in a tall glass, and get Yeltsined!

To find out how Santa got sacked, get your copy of his book here. It’s the perfect Christmas 2010 stocking stuffer!

December 20: What Was I Thinking?

Serious lapse in judgment today. Frustrated with my continued inability to find (or hold onto) a job for more than half a day, I decided to hit the streets and maximize my earnings by doing what I do best.

Long story short, I went to a local elementary school at pick-up time, set out a folding chair and put up a sign that read, “Sit on my lap for a dollar.”

Mrs. Claus bailed me out, but didn’t say a word on the ride home. After a while, I couldn’t take the freeze-out anymore, so I thought, “Fuck it” and sang, “I’m just a soul whose intentions are good—oh, Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood!” really loud. Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures. (BTW: she’s still not talking to me.)

To find out how Santa got sacked, get your copy of his book here. It’s the perfect Christmas 2010 stocking stuffer!

December 19: I Hate the Media

I did NOT have sexual relations with that woman. (And too bad, too, because Santa hasn’t gotten any in about a century….)

To find out how Santa got sacked, get your copy of his book here. It’s the perfect Christmas 2010 stocking stuffer!

December 18: And Now…The Depression Sets In

I used to be such an easy laugh. I was a ho’ for a ho-ho-ho. Now? Nothing’s funny. I went to “Jackass 3D” last night and I cried. Reminded me of all the times Comet kicked me in the nuts. Then it got me thinking: I was Jackass before there was Jackass. And I didn’t have one Wee Man — I had a friggin’ team of Wee Men! All the roofs I fell off. All the chimneys I fell down. And don’t get me started on the food poisoning. People put some weird-ass shit in cookies, is all I can say. (Though I always loved the brownies I got from the kids in San Fran…)

To find out how Santa got sacked, get your copy of his book here. It’s the perfect Christmas 2010 stocking stuffer!

December 17: Jonesin’

Good news: I got a job! Bad news: it lasted 45 minutes. Here’s the thing: the Dunkin’ Donuts in my neighborhood needed a counter guy ASAP, and I happened to be there (I’ll explain why in a moment). Anyhoo, I started right away. BIG mistake. See, I’ve got a bit of a baked goods problem. Cookies, cake, Cinnabons, whoopie pies…and yes, donuts. I can put away a lot of those babies. (I’ve got a weakness for Munchkins—natch.) Long story short, 15 minutes into my shift, I started sneaking samples. Lots of them. Next thing you know, I’m shoving Pumpkin Glazeds in my pockets, Chocolate Frosteds in my boots, Apple Fritters in my hat—I’m out of control. Half an hour later, I’m out on my ass, covered in sprinkles and powdered sugar, begging for Boston Kremes like some crazy old crack whore. Damn you, savory treats!

To find out how Santa got sacked, get your copy of his book here. It’s the perfect Christmas 2010 stocking stuffer!

December 16: Short…On Gratitude

Elves have no loyalty. I haven’t heard squat from the little bastards since I got canned. Not that I ever did anything for them—I only gave them JOBS for a friggin’ MILLENIUM. But what do I get in return? Bupkes. And it’s not like they were bitching about the gig when I was their boss. “We sure do hate all this merriment, Santa!” “Making toys and eating candy blows!” “We’d rather be dwarf-tossed in some Panama City sports bar!” Ingrates. Oh, but how can I stay mad at them? They’re so goddam cute!

To find out how Santa got sacked, get your copy of his book here. It’s the perfect Christmas 2010 stocking stuffer!