More Traditional War on Christmas Stories

This time of year we gather 'round the fire to hear the traditional holiday stories.

Like the tale of the termination of the Kringle.

With extreme prejudice.

"My mission is to make it up to the North Pole before the 25th.

There's a Jolly Old Elf up there who's gone insane.

I'm supposed to kill him."

Then, later...

Evil Liberal: "Who are all these people?"

Bill O’Reilly: "Yeah, well... They think you have come to take him

away. I hope that isn't true."

Evil Liberal: "Take who away ?"

Bill O’Reilly: "Him. Saint Nick. The Big Elf.

These are all his Helpers, as far as you can see."

Evil Liberal: "Could we, uh, talk to Saint Nick?"

Bill O’Reilly: "Hey, man, you don't talk to the Saint.

You listen to him. The man's enlarged my mind.

He's an elf-toymaker in the classic sense.

I mean sometimes he'll, uh, well, you'll say hello to him, right?

And he'll just walk right by you, and he won't even notice you.

And suddenly he'll grab you, and he'll throw you

on his lap, and he'll say do you know that “ant”

is the middle word in Santa?

If you can know who has been naughty

and who as been nice when all about you

are getting shitty toys and socks and blaming it on you…

if you can trust your elves when all men doubt you --

I mean I'm no, I can't -- I'm a little elf,

I'm a little elf, he's, he's The Claus, man.

I should have been a bag of remaindered WalMart Barbies

being sold out the trunk of an El Dorado

on a dead-drunk Sunday Morning on Maxwell Street -- I mean --

And finally, the tragic denouement.

"The ho-ho-horror. The ho-ho-horror..."