Happy ho-ho-holidays, everyone! It's me, your favourite old break-and-enter artist, Santa Claus! Whether you're a Haligonian, a Dartmouthian, a Bedfard, a Cole Harbonite, a Person Of Passage Persuasion or from one of the Sacks, I wish to all of you in the catchment area of The Coast a most merry of merry Christmases!
I'm so happy to be writing to you all today. I live for Christmas, I really do. No really, I do, it's my only duty in this world. Each year after I finish my post-Christmas paperwork and set things in motion for next year, I experience a deep existential dread in the late spring that lasts throughout the summer. Surely there's more to the life of a mystical nocturnal elder snow elf than to be constantly monitoring the behaviour of humans in order to apply an annual corrective practice via the distribution of gifts or lumps of coal. Ho ho ho! Not for me! Ho ho ho! Oh no.
Then in November it begins to get really dark much earlier in the day and my spirits lift! All the signs of good times ahead start appearing: I hear people complain that Christmas music is playing already and my heart warms! Folks say the sales are on, and decorations are up, too early and I'm filled with merriment! People pick fights on talk radio and the internet over the phrase "season's greetings" and my joy can barely be contained! When the lukewarm pond called the North Pole (which used to be permanently frozen) begins to get solid I become bright and high, knowing that the Christmas spirit is alive and the ritualistic annual birth of the Christ child is near! Once mid-December hits and good ol' Santa gets a little bit of snow into his system, he can already begin to taste the milk and cookies!
I'm in my element now! Pretty soon it will be time for me to take to the skies, and deliver to the little non-heathens who've been good by traditional societal standards presents—the quantity and quality heavily dependent on their family and friends' financial situations. Ho ho ho!
I truly am looking forward to visiting your amalgamated municipality again this year. It's always my first stop in North America since I go around the world east-to-west and everyone in Newfoundland knows exactly why I never stop there and never will again. They should all be ashamed of themselves. But HRM shouldn't—you have such lovely rotaries and have added a new one for me to rocket through on my sleigh this year! It's no fun for the reindeer, most of who come down with the "jolly dizzies" and the "festive vomits," but I sure love it, ho ho ho! Oh, you are all right now on my nice list for sure this year, for the entertainment value alone!
It really is the most wonderful time of year, and at the speeds I am forced to travel I am honoured to spend the few microseconds I do with you in your lovely urban amalgam.
So Merry Christmas, Halimouthians and Dartigons! Happy Holidays, Sackgrowths! Seasons Greetings, Bedflies, Colehoppers and Easternpassagegonianites. I hope you all get something nice this Christmas—I can't promise a thing, because there's still time for each one of you to mess it up. Santa doesn't let his guard down for a second. Ho ho HO! a
