Yours truly, Kris Kringle, has been informed that my fans are truly miffed because they haven’t seen me around lately. Truth be told, I am hiding out from the paparazzi, an occupational hazard of all the great and famous. But because you, my loyal ACSH fans, deserve to know. Truth be told, I am being sued.
The claim? All sorts, various, blunderbuss – typical lawyer tripe and tribble: those legal loose fits and scrooges allege that:
- I and my staff are contributing to global warming.
- I am seducing the vulnerable populace by peddling various questionable products and insinuating they are healthy.
- I am serving as a poor role model to the zaftig and big-boned (aka “obese”) members of society, thereby contributing to the worldwide obesity epidemic – just by being, getting about, and garnering good press for my hefty physique and good deeds.
I realize that hiding out to preserve my privacy, which the good Prince Harry has shown is worthy of court intervention- is disconcerting to those expecting gifts, good wishes, and good cheer. No biggie.
Since even court proceedings are Zoomed post COVID - I intend to follow suit and convey my holiday greetings virtually this year. (Truth be told, it has never been otherwise.) I will use this digital modality to convey critical information, responses to the legal allegations and disclose local sites – including Amazon addresses where you can redeem your gifts. (No, we won’t be using chimneys this year. OSHA has decreed that even elves might be exposed to carbon soot and at risk of scrotal cancer – even though everyone who knows anything about elves knows they have no scrota.)
Therefore, permit me to respond in print to these nefarious allegations by my adversaries.
It is true that my reindeer are pooping and farting all over the world, and I am told this is responsible for contributing to my carbon footprint. (Farts are a prime contributor of methane, a culprit in the global warming crisis.)
As a dedicated and passionate foe of Global warming (I mean, could you imagine me -- dressed in my fleece-lined velvet finery- prancing about the polar ice cap in torrents of steamy water on my head)? Nevertheless, I vow to make amends for any untoward appearances.
To do my part in reducing greenhouse gases, all reindeer will be equipped with a special nozzle attached to their nether wherevers – and noxious fart gas will be collected, preserved, and recycled as hot air to be sold to HABCA (Hot Air Balloon Company of Artica) which functions as the backup transporter when my reindeer are out-of-sorts, and the chimney flues are backed up or otherwise verboten — recycling at its finest (and smelliest).
I also wish to advise that none of my gifts will contain GMOS, preservatives, or toxic kindercrap – and pledge that fire-y chips will be so constructed that they shall remain firmly in the fireplace where they can burn the mice. Of course, these new products – fresh off Santa’s assembly line, especially the minty, mango, molasses-flavored child-dosed pain-reliever – now sans preservatives – may decompose and become toxic. Don’t say you haven’t been warned!!
As to the state of my corpus, admittedly, I do not exercise and don’t sleep much either, especially not this time of year. I don’t pay much attention to my breathing, nor do I meditate. I have never felt shamed by my weight, although I understand that most people in my girth range do. Perhaps for this reason, Oprah has not invited me to weigh in on her weight-panel programs. Perhaps because I am so blissfully proud of my state and bespoke wardrobe, which flatters my curved rotundity, my kind rejects me.
I have made a New Year’s Resolution to address these failings.
As an affirmative defense, I counter-allege that all those leveling claims against me are either jealous of my good cheer, are naughty, or shout, pout, and act in a manner otherwise inconsistent with good receivership and wouldn’t be getting gifts this year, no matter what. They wish to deprive their well-behaved siblings and buddies of Santa’s bounty. Shame on them. And double shame.
