For those of you that fall into the category of grumpy curmudgeon who grumbles that retail stores are already putting out Christmas paraphernalia, apologies for a Christmas-themed post in early November. Below is a poem I wrote for my in-laws. To put the poem in context, one of the first interactions I had with my now mother-in-law was her telling me that during Christmas she wasn’t having any of my skeptical, atheist nonsense. In her house everyone believed in Santa Clause or didn’t receive any presents from him; deal with it.
This poem was my response.
On the scientific validity of the magical, immortal man known as Santa Clause
Here is the problem I’m facing this season
I’ve devoted myself to both science and reason
But a challenge was stated that told me, in essence,
Believe in Santa or you won’t get any presents.
I could never accept such a fable I fear
A single man bringing gifts to each house once a year
Thus you see that I’m stuck in a quandary indeed
I don’t believe in Santa, but there’s shit that I need