re: To Whom it May Concern

Truth be told, we weren’t expecting a reply, but the voice of a lone deer crying in the Arctic had been heard… so some kind of reply was perhaps inevitable. A certain Mr Klaus was the one to step up to the plate and give said reply.

Alas, all it amounted to was more bureaucratic run-around. Mr Klaus is clearly proficient in saying much while not saying anything. (He could run for President of the United States if he wanted to.) So, we have a question for you, Dear Reader: Are you still a believer in Santa? ‘Cause in the 21st century, it’s marginal, right?

In other words, we are going to need a lawyer in order to make a legal claim on behalf of Rudolph and his friends. (Could you advise us of a decent animal rights advocate?)
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From: M. Klaus/Nicholas
To: #realchristmasombudsman; topdog@realchristmasombudsman.org
Cc: Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
Subject: re: Regarding the matter of ongoing reindeer rights violations
Date: 25.12.2018

Thank you for relaying your concerns about inquiries and concerns expressed by a certain rogue punainen laskelmoiva suomalainen lentävät porot.

1. I am the author of the Reindeer Husbandry & Transport Engineering library, found in the Hague library & all Northern Hemisphere Departments of Special Supernatural Animals Care and Husbandry.

My nearly 1,800 years of experience and my full-time (except during “the season”) research and development has made me the premier authority, not only of the physical needs, but also the psychological development and treatment of reindeer mental health issues.

2. I only hire the fittest reindeer after rigorous testing from Finnish flying and pulling contests, and psychological screening. Some of these temporary hires come back and compete year-after-year, like American athletes, vying for places on their teams.

As Christmas Magic conveys virtual immortality on the winners, they cease to age; with our special diet and strength training, they grow to tremendous levels of strength and speed at high and low altitudes, easily a thousand times the abilities of normal reindeer.

A solid group of winners have developed into a semi-permanent team of part-time veterans. They are permitted to live & train in the luxurious North Pole team facilities, where they do as they please during the “off-season.” They often make extra compensation from countless breeding opportunities they may pursue, due to their “star” status and world-wide exposure.

We do have strict drug and behavior policies, which, if abused, result in probation, free rehabilitation, and if all measures fail, release without prejudice.

Each reindeer is assigned one of the stage names we developed over the centuries. This allows children extra stability in their understanding of the fun of Christmas. It also preserves the privacy of the reindeer team, and their backups during the rest of the year.

3. As our legal team advises us, the combination of temporary hires and special benefits makes them exempt from simple labor and agricultural laws aimed at protecting normal, natural reindeer.

4. On the topic of sexual harassment, we feel that there is nothing sexual or harassing involved in calling a reindeer, “deer” for short. As far as patting rumps, we feel the affection shown animals is an established tradition, accepted and enjoyed by the reindeer for centuries without a single episode of harmful, lewd, or demeaning behavior by our skilled trainers or M. Klaus/Nicholas.

5. On the topic of psychological abuse, we keep the diets of the reindeer optimal and generous. M. Klaus/Nicholas has not grown any larger for all those years, despite the constant acceptance of food and beverage gifts from all the children in the world.

Unfortunately, milk, cookies, Ho Ho Ho’s, and the like, contain ingredients that weaken the reindeers’ immune systems, despite all of our efforts to remedy their response to such food and beverage. We always pass on healthy food like carrots, fruits and other offerings clearly left for the reindeer. We also keep ultrapure water and freshly harvested greens available at all times, should hunger or thirst become an issue for one or more of the team.

6. The only problems we have experienced in the last year or two have been with the one mutant reindeer, who, unfortunately, thinks he is brighter than the others, just because we made an exception to our team limit of eight.

The team has been exposed to his negative behavior, such as grumbling, sniping, and occasional diversions from the designated route. We are still asking our psychologists to help this team member resolve his issues, and he seems to get back in the harness on “the day.” We plan to keep up our support for his improvement.

We hope this answers any questions you may have on the treatment of our most valuable assets. If anything is left open or unanswered contact us at once, though we ask that you please give us some extra consideration for inquires in December.

We hope you and your staff and their families have been “nice” this year so you get the gifts you want and deserve.

And to all, a good night.

M. Klaus/Nicholas

 

Comment by VON SMITH
Intro by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

To Whom it May Concern

From: Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer <rreindeer@rovaniemi.fi>
To: The Christmas Ombudsman <xmasombudsman@un.org>
Subject: Regarding the matter of ongoing reindeer rights violations
Date: 19 December 2018, 12:18:30

To Whom it May Concern,

I wish to bring to your attention the repeated flagrant breaches of labour laws, as well as contravention of occupational health and safety standards, under management of a Mr Santa H. Claus (henceforth referred to as the Red Devil‘).

Breach 1: Physical abuse

According to guidelines, the average deer’s cargo capacity is 90-100 kg during winter and 30-40 kg during summer. Adjusted for the Bockelberg formula, the gross tractive effort of a sledge team that includes nine deer harnessed in tandem is about 40%. This means at Christmas time we can carry up to 360 kg, but not a metric tonne like someone counts!

We therefore demand that the aforementioned Red Devil complete a basic course in reindeer husbandry and transport engineering, and start a strict diet that does not include 6 packets of Jumbo Ho Hos a day. We will not budge on this.

Breach 2: Sexual abuse

In what reality is it acceptable for an overweight 1,748 year old white male to slap us on the ass and call us ‘dear’? Even with the quantum multiverse model of reality factored in, the total is none.

Not only is this behaviour patronising in the extreme, it also reduces us to mere pieces of meat, ripe to be ogled, demeaned, and condescended to. Several deer have already suffered severe emotional trauma due to this, and taken months of unplanned sick leave as a result.

Breach 3: Psychological abuse

Last, but not least, the gastronomical predilections of the aforementioned Red Devil.

He brazenly and callously consumes ‘rilkeil’ within eyeshot of all reindeer employees. As his waistline expands, more unplanned leave is taken, and morale plummets to an all-time low.

For your reference: “Rilkeil is a traditional Chukchi dish that is made from semi-digested moss from a slaughtered reindeer’s stomach mixed with blood, fat, and pieces of boiled reindeer intestine.” (Source: Nelson J. 2013. Before They Pass Away. teNeues, Kempen. 408 pp.)

We ask that you deal with this issue forthwith. He must not be allowed to ruin Christmas 2018 for everybody!

Regards,

Rudolph the Red-Nosed, the Shaft-Reindeer of Tinsel Squad (on behalf and upon authorization of: Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen).

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth

Poor Santa. Year after year he thinks of everyone else but no one thinks of him. He delivers gifts by the sack load to a gazillion billion entitled ingrates, and do they thank him? Hell, no! If someone catches him shimmying down their chimney on Christmas Eve, they punch him in the mouth and have him arrested!

He doesn’t even get given Christmas cards. Not a single one. Only an angry letter from some guy named Tony. No wonder Santa doesn’t feel loved. No wonder he wants to quit being Santa. But it’s okay, Santa, we still love you. There’s always next year.

Merry Christmas, Santa.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINATONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2016

¿Dónde Está Santa Claus?

Dear readers, I wrote a letter to Santa. Yup. I really did. In it, I spilled my guts. I bared my soul even. Hell, I was mortifyingly earnest. Isn’t that just well-meaning stupidity in disguise? Ugh. Anyway.

I informed Santa that I’ve decided not to celebrate Christmas this year, or in any year going forth. As an embittered former Christian it’s something I can no longer, in all good conscience, do. And as someone who hasn’t then gone the whole kit and caboodle and converted to atheism, it does make things a bit tricky socially speaking.

You see, some of my atheist chums ask me why I don’t just boycott Christmas, like it’s my goddamn duty or something. They wave their little magazines in my face, evangelising me, expecting me to be inspired and galvanised. Apparently, I’m supposed to display some newfound passion about my newfound liberation from the tired old shackles of religion.

But really, I couldn’t be arsed. Not when they’re foisting titles like Fairy Tale Crushers Quarterly or Militant Mind Monkeys Monthly or Dawkins’s Dick Butter Digest in my face. How can I be expected to swallow that? Even the covers with their smug tag lines put me off. “Freethink like us or we’ll laugh at you!” Okay. They do realise people have been laughing at me my entire life, yes? It’s not exactly a threat. I mean, it’s not eternal damnation or anything. Try harder, atheists! Actually, no, don’t. You’re as annoying as the theists.

God, I’m so tired. When did people start giving such gorilla-sized shits about what others think? I just could not be that arsed. Hell, my thoughts probably come out of my arse so who am I to be policing everyone else’s brain turds? Seriously, I’m not that invested. I just want a cup of tea and a nice lie down. I mean, how can they possibly maintain the requisite amount of fulminating engagement 24/7? They have to sleep some time! Do they sleep angry? God, I hate social justice warriors. They’re so fucking exhausting.

I hate Christmas. That’s the one thing I will agree with the atheists on. All those wasted childhood years praying for a better looking face. No wonder I feel so aggrieved. Christians say Jesus is the reason for the season. Okay. So where were you, Jesus, when I needed my merry miracle makeover? Off pumping Kim Kardashian full of the good DNA no doubt. What a cheap bastard. And what a bitch for hogging it.

My face. God. It looks like it was regifted. Some unlucky, hopelessly damned soul must have received this face one Christmas, gone “AUGH!” then crammed it back in its wrapping paper and regifted it to me the following Christmas. “Oh, Tony will have it. He likes weird shit.” “Oh, thanks. I guess I gotta wear this now so I don’t hurt your feelin’s or nothin’.” Still, I suppose it could’ve been worse. I could’ve been regifted a box of used condoms.

But is this all I’ve been reduced to? Covering over the crushing disappointment that is life with gaudy tinsel? Making everything Christmas to within an inch of its goddamn life, godammit? Screw social convention! It doesn’t make me feel any better. It’s not like I can drape Christmas over a pile of dead puppies and suddenly everything’s okay. No one looks at a pile of dead puppies draped with Christmas and says, “D’aaawww… Let’s go carolling!” I’ve tried to fit in with this holiday season malarkey. Truly, I’ve tried. But it’s not working.

One thing I did do was to grow my hair out. I figured if I could grow it long enough, it’d cover my face and entire body, and I’d look like a wookie. Then I could finally rejoin society because, you know, everyone’s worshiping the new Star Wars right now. Which means they’ve gotta love me, right? I’d be famous! I’d get invited to comic conventions, sit on panels and sign tits. Lovely! It’s what I’ve always wanted. Hell, I wouldn’t even have to be articulate. All I’d need to say is “GAAARRRGGGHHH!” in answer to everything. Fans would lap that shit up. They’d be lining up for decades, waiting for autographed pics of themselves swooning over my immaculately groomed wookie weenie.

So, anyway, I wrote Santa a letter. In it, I told him of my esteem obliterating ennui. Yes, I told him that I’m tired. That I think I need to go to sleep now. Maybe for good. I recommended that he not get me anything this year, that he keep the extra he would’ve spent buying me a Robot Action Smurf and get himself a shot of egg nog or a beard mitten instead. I don’t know. Whatever floats Santa’s boat. Oh, sorry. Sleigh. I meant sleigh.

God, I suck.

Anyway, dear readers, I apologise for this. I don’t wish to burden you with my unburdening. Have a sack load of festive humbugs on me.

Yours grudgingly,
Scroogey McScrooge.

PS: I burnt the letter and sent Santa a Facebook message instead. He still hasn’t friended me. He’s probably chilling somewhere on a Majorcan beach with hookers, blow and a toddy. What a tosser.

 

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2016