Politickles

Yours truly, Daddy Claus

We’ve never shilled for Santa Claus in our house, nor for the Easter Bunny, nor for any other commercialized Christian travesty. The Tooth Fairy we tolerated, but only because the pretense was so obviously ridiculous that our kids understood from the outset that we were putting them on. We’re not Jehovah’s Witnesses, mind you; it’s just that the true story of Christmas is far more compelling than Clement Moore’s saccharine fabrication, and we didn’t want our kids to learn one day, with disillusionment and a sense of betrayal, that there really is no Santa Claus and their parents had been lying to them — and worse, to wonder what other things we’d lied about.

A friend related to us once the logical extrapolation her child made when first learning the truth about Santa: “Is God real?” How ironic that Santa should sow the seeds of atheism!

For economic, as well as theological, reasons, we’ve always celebrated Christmas modestly. Not only did we want our kids to understand the true meaning of Christmas; we also lacked the resources to spend extravagantly, even if we’d wanted to. And it seemed absurd to credit what largesse we could afford to some imaginary buffoon in a red clown suit. Thus was “Daddy Claus” born.

Feel free to publish, post, or pass on Your Weekly Politickle by F.R. Duplantier:

POSITION STATEMENT
While walking with the abbot,
Which was his daily habit,
A monk who spied
Hares side by side
Said, “That’s the east-er rabbit!”

From the archive:

HOLY WEEK
So begins the passion play:
Evil triumphs for a day,
But Friday’s cross
Redeems our loss
And confirms us in the Way.
(2009)

NATIVITY
Tell me how can an innocent Child –
Holy Infant, so tender and mild –
Be the object of scorn
From the moment He’s born:
Rejected, resented, reviled?
(2005)

MEA CULPA
How fully prim piety fails
And scarcely scapegoating avails
When I add my own ration
To Christ’s frightful passion
And with my hands help drive in the nails.
(2004)

PASSION
Critics say it’s a judgmental story
With scenes that are overly gory,
But that’s what you’re liable
To read in the Bible
Of sacrifice leading to glory.
(2003)

P.C. (POST CHRISTIAN)
The other children teased her
For being a faithful feaster:
When the pagan takes
His seasonal breaks,
She celebrates Christmas and Easter.
(2002)

BASKET CASE
My obesity just isn’t funny
And I’m suing for bundles of money:
When a basket of candy
Is too full and too handy,
Who’s to blame but the old Easter Bunny?
(2005)

RABBIT REACTION
John Kerry’s “bunny day”
Was such a funny day,
But to friends in France
His silly stance
Was not a “bonne idée.”
(2004)

Last week’s verse:

BASIC ECONOMICS
You’ve got thousands in debt to repay,
But you can’t make that debt go away
If you keep on defending
Your gross overspending
Or you cut back just pennies a day.

Daddy Claus/Père Robért/Bayou Bob

We’ve never shilled for Santa Claus in our house, nor for the Easter Bunny, nor for any other commercialized Christian travesty. The Tooth Fairy we tolerated, but only because the pretense was so obviously ridiculous that our kids understood from the outset that we were putting them on. We’re not Jehovah’s Witnesses, mind you; it’s just that the true story of Christmas is far more compelling than Clement Moore’s saccharine fabrication, and we didn’t want our kids to learn one day, with disillusionment and a sense of betrayal, that there really is no Santa Claus and their parents had been lying to them — and worse, to wonder what other things we’d lied about.

A friend related to us once the logical extrapolation her child made when first learning the truth about Santa: “Is God real?” How ironic that Santa should sow the seeds of atheism!

For economic, as well as theological, reasons, we’ve always celebrated Christmas modestly. Not only did we want our kids to understand the true meaning of Christmas; we also lacked the resources to spend extravagantly, even if we’d wanted to. And it seemed absurd to credit what largesse we could afford to some imaginary buffoon in a red clown suit. Thus was “Daddy Claus” born.

Daddy Claus (AKA Père Robért/Bayou Bob)

We’ve never shilled for Santa Claus in our house, nor for the Easter Bunny, nor for any other commercialized Christian travesty. The Tooth Fairy we tolerated, but only because the pretense was so obviously ridiculous that our kids understood from the outset that we were putting them on. We’re not Jehovah’s Witnesses, mind you; it’s just that the true story of Christmas is far more compelling than Clement Moore’s saccharine fabrication, and we didn’t want our kids to learn one day, with disillusionment and a sense of betrayal, that there really is no Santa Claus and their parents had been lying to them  — and worse, to wonder what other things we’d lied about.

A friend related to us once the logical extrapolation her child made when first learning the truth about Santa: “Is God real?” How ironic that Santa should sow the seeds of atheism!

For economic, as well as theological, reasons, we’ve always celebrated Christmas modestly. Not only did we want our kids to understand the true meaning of Christmas; we also lacked the resources to spend extravagantly, even if we’d wanted to. And it seemed absurd to credit what largesse we could afford to some imaginary buffoon in a red clown suit. Thus was “Daddy Claus” born.