There's no such thing as Santa!

When I was a little boy- no, this isn't a post about masturbation or touching my first pair of boobies but feel free to read on anyway. (F.Y.I. It was Cousin Meg laundry room age 11) I'll start again. When I was about seven-years-old I had a few things wrong about the world we lived in. I thought that eggs cam out of a chicken's butt and so that's why they smelled weird. I didn't eat eggs until I was 16. I thought that all the kids who wrote letters to Santa Clause were idiots. I knew that there wasn't some fat man in a red suit sliding down my chimney to give me presents. How could one out of shape old man possibly deliver all those gifts? Clearly I knew something they didn't. The ones leaving all the presents were the ELVES. That's who could fit down the chimneys, deliver all those presents and eat cookies left out for this bogus Santa. I reasoned that Santa was probably just a famous Elf from a long time ago, kind of like the Elven version of George Washington, Jesus and Papa Smurf rolled into one badly dressed chubby guy.

This theory made me wonder why the Elves didn't like the Jews. Because the Jews didn't get toys for Christmas or put up Christmas trees. I told my Jewish friends that the Elves will only leave you presents if you have a nicely decorated tree. The Keebler Elves lived in a tree and they sure seemed to love cookies. All the puzzle pieces were fitting snugly together. So naturally I needed to catch an Elf to be sure that my theory was correct. So I set an Elf Trap over our fireplace. It was a trip wire trap that would pull a knit quilt and building blocks down on top of them when they set it off. Sadly I failed to catch an Elf that year. In fact before I could even draw up plans for next year's Elf Trap I discovered that it was actually the parents who leave the presents. I saw it on some TV commercial. My grandmother was the first to crack after I repeatedly interrogated her on the subject. That was the very same year that the tooth fairy stopped leaving me money underneath my pillow. Ignorance is blissful. I hope when I have kids I can keep them fooled all the way through high school. Who really wants to look behind the curtain and see that there isn't really a Wizard of Oz. I'm sure I can hire some cute midget actor in an Elf suit.