Santa Claus has made my shitlist. He didn’t bring me the new bike I wanted for Christmas – just a bunch of socks and sweaters and other crap no proper kid would ever want to unwrap. It’s so unfair, because I was really good all year. I tried real hard to always do the right thing, and I didn’t get in trouble at all. Why is Santa blackballing me? Is there anything I can do to talk some sense into that chubby tub of lard? Is there an appeals process I can follow to get the new bike I so well deserve?
Dear Disappointed Danny,
So you’ve done exactly what you’re supposed to do – behave yourself – and for this you think you deserve a shiny new bike. Your sense of entitlement is quite powerful for someone so young. I guess that’s what the Santa scenario does to the youth of our society. And now you’re on the verge of learning an important life skill: when things don’t go your way, just keep whining and complaining until you get what you want.
You’re upset. Santa didn’t bring you a bike. Why not? You want to track that fat bearded bastard down and get some answers, convince him to give you the bike. Sounds like a reasonable plan, but there’s one problem. There is no Santa Claus. That’s right, little buddy. Santa isn’t real. Everybody’s been lying to you. Ho-ho-hoax. That guy at the mall is just some chubby pervert who likes to have children sit on his lap. All your letters to Santa get thrown away at the post office. And the presents all come from your parents.
Your parents! Those sons of bitches have been lying to you for years. And you know what’s worse? They knew that you wanted that bike, and they didn’t buy it for you. And they use Santa to divert the blame for your crestfallen Christmas: “Santa decides what presents you get. He has his reasons. There’s nothing we can do about it.” Liars! They hide behind the façade of a fake gift-giver so they don’t have to listen to you complain about not getting what you want.
But now you know better. You know that your parents are the only ones to blame for your sad bike-less Christmas. Confront them with this truth, then let them feel the full wrath of the whining complaining demon within you. Throw hissy-fits. Throw toys. Stomp around, yell, and cry – constantly. Make your default emotional setting TANTRUM. Your parents will be so sick of listening to you, they’ll get you whatever you want next Christmas. The world is yours!
Peace, Love, and Getting What You Want,