When I was 6, my father’s office held a Christmas party complete with Santa Claus.
When it was my turn to sit on Santas lap, he asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I promptly informed him that I was Jewish and I wasn’t getting anything for Christmas.
Later I ate a Brachs taffy candy, broke out in hives and spent the weekend covered in what has come to be known as Christmas Pox ever since.
The lesson here is you don’t screw with Santa. Sure he seems like a semi-pudgy dude just looking for some easy cash making empty promises. But at the end of the day whether you’re a mugger or just some snotty little first grader with an undeserved sense of entitlement, you have to respect the Santa.
And it’s not a bad idea to tip your cleaning lady, either.