Merry Christmas!

though my santa was a little more delayed than the last couple of years, i still got it in before the big day. i'm not sure how i feel about this one. but i am proud of my fire work. basically, what i'm trying to say is give the man his cookies. he's earned them. don't give him vegatables, please just don't do that.

holiday cheer?

i'm diligently working to get this last week of school under my belt successfully. actually, the fact that i'm writing this right now probably casts much doubt upon the merit of my diligence. a truly diligent man would not be updating his sorely neglected blog whilst drowning in a sea of scholarly endeavors. he would need all of his energy to keep him afloat, to keep his increasingly scattered head above water in the hopes that something might swoop in to rescue him.

the purpose of this post is simply to question the people at sprint. what are they doing with santa, nay, to santa?

please follow this link but be warned that you might be freaked out by what you see: holiday abomination

now, sprint has made santa into a malnourished, ill-fashioned, albino-tool with a beard and self-issued "hip-hop-street-cred" that makes me hate the whole concept of santa, who was not meant to be a weaselly trust fund recipient with too much time for leisure but a diligent and benevolent toy craftsmen and a kind and efficient manager of adorable elves. santa should be full of love, hope, generosity, ridiculous cheer and equal parts milk & cookies.

santa's clothing should be a bit of a squeeze for him because he is a little heavy and intends to go on a diet. his pants should not be tight because they were made for women. i do not want and the world does not need an emo santa who can be described with the word uber (please insert two dots above the u, or is it the e).

this blatant abuse of santa bugs me because christmas has been so terribly distorted into something that irks me. though santa has seemingly replaced the birth of Christ as christmas's central theme, the roots of his lore are decent and kind of comforting. the real santa didn't seem to have time to golf or pursue his dj dreams, which i can only assume will flounder epically, but was trying to bless other people.

where has substance gone? can we please lead lives that matter again? the world needs fat santas again that genuinely work towards the good, not merely a good time. looking at ourselves makes us empty and skinny. caring about others fattens us up. if there was ever a time that we actually needed fat, it is now (metaphorically of course: be more sensible in food and exercise for a healthy life). keep an eye out for my annual santa paint production (i'll take suggestions).