Showing posts with label Santae. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Santae. Show all posts

December 22, 2013

Jolly Old Saint Badonkadonk

So . . . is Santa's butt a thing? Seems like everywhere I turn lately, I'm finding Santa wagging his big old booty at me.

Sometimes, he plays it off all innocent:

 no, no, I was just working out with my Jane Fonda aerobics video.


Other times he's coy:
 I'm just ringing my bell and rummaging my toy sack… but if you think I need a spanking…


But it's when he's just flagrantly flaunting that I find upsetting.

 Oh my! The dog's gone and nipped my trousers! Looks like they'll have to come off…

Actually, on second thought, in my travels, I have noticed a definite link between Christmas and exposing your bum. 



I guess old Santa just got tired of all the other Christmas ornaments having all of the fun and wanted to play along. 

Go home, Christmas Bear, you're drunk.



Open Your Eyes


So Hurry Down the Chimney Tonight

At first glance, this Stay-Puft cabin wasn't all that remarkable. Sure, there are the inexplicable Christmas lights in the shrubbery and the molecular homogeny of building materials, snow and plant life, but nothing particularly Christmas Awesome-worthy.  


In fact, I passed by it a few times before I took a real good look at that jolly little fella popping down the chimney…and realized it wasn't Santa at all, but just one of the demons from Jacob's Ladder dressed up to look like Santa.

shudders upon shudders


December 08, 2013

Whoah, what, it's December already?

Welcome back and merry December to you all. Mrs. Elfenstein and I have a brand new little Elf, and admit we've been a wee bit too busy with burping, feeding and changing diapers to focus too much on the many wonders Christmas has to offer.

Thankfully, we collected plenty of material in the off-season. So much. So, so much. Like this fella in the back of a truck in July.

Santa? Santa, are you OK?

So without further ado, let's kick off the 2013 Christmas season!

December 24, 2012

Put Your Butt on Santa's Face

Merry Christmas Eve, everyone!
 
What's Christmas without a party? Family and friends and neighbors and festivities and food and Christmas decorations and twinkling lights and presents and laughter and booze and tension and calls from drunken ex-husbands and overtired children and vomit found Christmas morning in the backyard and the occasional fisticuffs, ah, the memories...
 
The prepared host or hostess must take great care to accommodate every guest's needs, and play the role of addiction enabler at every opportunity. From offering your dieting Auntie another slice of pie to preparing your drunk Uncle another Manhattan, the prepared host or hostess should also make sure that any guests who prefer to char their own lungs with poisonous gases are able to do so with an appropriate amount of cheer.
 
I offer to you the Santa Ash Tray. Fill your holidays with mirth, and Santa's mouth with nicotine residue. Tap your ashes directly into his big blue eyes and rest your Pall Mall on his cute button nose. This thing's made of plastic, so it's sure to melt and leave charred black craters all over old Kris Kringle's face.
  


Merry Christmas, everyone, and to all, a good night.

December 10, 2012

If You Don't Know Him By Now...

Santa holds back the years quite well, methinks

During the 1980's, Santa was a big fan of Simply Red.


December 09, 2012

You Better Watch Out, You Better Not Cry


Is your child acting up? Can't get little Johnny to eat his vegetables or little Sally to make her bed? Fortunately, during the holiday season, parents have a secret weapon to elicit better behavior: the spectre of Mad Santa.

If you are naughty, Santa won't come this year.

Santa only brings presents for good boys and girls.

If you keep screaming, I'm going to let Santa know you were bad, and then he'll come down the chimney on Christmas night, stuff you in a sack, and take you away to Spain.

Works wonders.

But what's a parent to do when you can't be there 24-7? After all, you've got a job, possibly the tattered shreds of a social life, presumably a spouse who has . . . needs or something. Someone's got to keep the threat of vague future suffering alive to curb present unwanted behavior.

Enter, Admonitory Santa Wall Plaque:

 
This is a quality piece, cast from the same soft-yet-wholly-unnatural plastic used for kewpie dolls of old. Don't be fooled by the ring on top of his head - this isn't a tiny tree ornament. This sucker is the size of a iPad.
 
Hang this on your children's playroom wall, and never again fear that fights will break out or anything will get broken. Admonitory Santa's watchful, Fremen-blue eyes will make sure your little angel behaves, one (of his six, count 'em, six) fingers poised for the wagging. His red tongue is positioned to raspberry your offspring at the slightest hint of misdeeds. You will be free to slip off and pour yourself a Sanity Vodka in peace.
 
Thank you, Admonitory Santa Wall Plaque!
 
 

December 08, 2012

Sinterklaas: A History Lesson

I love history.

Locked within history is a wealth of information that when analyzed, can unlock life's mysteries. Understanding the past helps us prepare for the future. Re-telling the tales told to countless generations can provide Answers to the elusive Questions about why we are here, what came to pass, what may lie ahead...

And so in the interest of providing answers to questions you may have about . . .uh, things, I will tell you the tale of one of the historical faces of Santa Claus: the Nordic-Germanic figure of Sinterklaas.

Sinterklaas was a real person. He was a Greek bishop named Nikolaos from Myra (Turkey), who loved all of the little children and poor. He is also known for bitch-slapping Arius at the Council of Nicea for arguing that Jesus was mostly human.

And when he died in the year 343, his remains were transferred to Bari, which is in Italy, but at one point (apparently, a point that people in the Netherlands were concerned with) was part of Spain.

After his death, he was canonized as St. Nicholas, the patron saint of children, oftentimes seen carrying/suckling/smothering children:



His legend traveled to other parts of Europe, such as France, Germany, and the Netherlands. We'll focus on the Netherlands.

Just like the game of telephone, where a common phrase becomes increasingly mangled as it is told from person to person, the Netherlands is quite a ways away from southern Italy, and details about Nikolaos' life and works became, understandably, pretty mangled.

For example, every year on his feast day (Dec. 5), Sinterklaas would sail to the Netherlands from Spain on a boat:

 It's supposed to be a steamboat, but as the legend translated into crappy porcelain ornaments, the steamboat morphed into just a regular old, tiny pirate ship.

Sinterklaas kept his tabs on which children were good or bad utilizing black devils who listened at chimneys (sometime in the 1800s, these "black devils" were transformed, and are portrayed to this day, as red-lipped Moorish helpers in blackface called Zwarte Piets, or Black Peters, because exaggerated depictions of other races are a laugh riot).

Anyway, Sinterklaas comes to your house and it's customary to put one shoe in front of your fireplace to welcome him (a stocking may do in a pinch). Make sure to leave him a carrot or hay for his horse!

Sinterklaas hangs around outside your house and leaves presents in a burlap sack (sometimes, a  Zwarte Piet will hide the presents in the house). Unless you are a bad child, in which case, you get a bundle of sticks. In some of the more disturbing legends, Sinterklaas would actually stuff bad children in sacks and take them back to Spain with him.


 
Being a dead bishop unaffiliated with modern merchandising, Sinterklaas isn't exactly jolly. Note his branch to beat naughty children in one hand and bundle of sticks for naughty children in the other. In theory, there would be candy for the good children in his stylish purse, but judging by the stern look of disapproval, it appears he is traveling light.

As with most children's stories from medieval times, the legend of Sinterklaas offers an unsettling mixture of fantasy, whimsy, tradition, racial stereotypes, and the unrelenting certainty of final judgment.

I promised earlier that learning about history can lead to better understanding about modern times. And now, hopefully, I have answered the question of why sometimes Santa is a jolly fat man who brings toys for all, and why sometimes, he is gaunt, angry, and carrying a handful of twigs.

I can't explain the Vera Bradley handbag, though, sorry.

December 28, 2011

Yes Virginia, There is a Santa Claus, and He Uses Protection

Oh look, there’s Santa and a candy cane and a French horn, and . . .



What is that background made of? It looks like glittered . . . latex? There’s a little springy coil in all around the  . . .

Oh.

Oh.

That’s just precious.

I sure hope this isn’t second-hand.

December 23, 2011

Guns Don’t Kill People, Santa Kills People

My first impression of this ornament was that Santa had some binoculars. Oh, ok, so he’s a bird watcher.







Then I noticed the Brawny man shirt and the gold lamé, leopard print vest. Okaaay. And solid gold tie. Weird.

And then I noticed the sawed-off shotgun.


I get it. He’s Big Game Hunter Santa. And I see now that his vest is just poorly-rendered camouflage, but that doesn’t explain the gold lamé unless there are a lot of elk in P-Town nowadays. And how do the reindeer feel about Santa’s little hobby?

And since when does Santa carry a gun?

Um, since for a while now, apparently.

Thanks be to Mrs. Elfenstein for hot-gluing Santa’s trigger arm back on (life in the ornament bin is fraught with danger)!


December 20, 2011

A Face Only Mrs. Claus Could Love



Just look at those blue eyes. Santa must have been a lady killer in his youth. And judging by that nose, a hockey player or a boxer.

Every year we put this up, I like to think that someone crafted an entire tube of Santa face out of clay, and this is just one slice of many. Kind of like Meat Face, but with Santa. And it’s not made of meat. This is a good thing.

December 18, 2011

Santa and the Dead Girl


This large placard of an ornament was lovingly crafted with sand beads pasted on a board and edged with red yarn. Kris Kringle leans in over the chair where a little girl who has recently perished lies, lifeless and limp. He waves a doll over her slumped form, perhaps enticing her to rise again like Lazarus. An alternate theory has been posed that the doll is actually a cursed effigy, an instrument of black magic with which Santa strikes down bad children. Either way, Christmas was not merry for poor Alice.

December 17, 2011

On the first day of Christmas Awesome, my true love gave to me…

Mrs. Elfenstein and I decided to brave the snowstorm to take a road trip to the Habitat for Humanity ReStore and to price out a new sofa today. When we got to the furniture store, though, it was really tiny and pricey and pretentious, and she felt all weird about going in. Then I felt all weird about going in because I knew she felt weird, so we decided to instead hit the nearby Goodwill we had passed on our way in.
Score!
They had 6 to 10 shelves worth of Christmas ornaments. Two Black Santas, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle ornament, and a wasted-looking homemade, felt snowman. Also, there was a baby Jesus, an archangel, and a whole crapload of Wise Men all missing their right arms, all on the same shelf together.
We were able to replace the Pope John Paul II ornament that is curiously missing (along with Old Troll and the styrofoam snowman family – where the heck are they?), which pleased Mrs. Elfenstein immensely, but the crown jewel of the trip was Santa’s Mail Maw:




When we went to check out, the cashier was a kindly lady who declared Santa’s Mail Maw to be “cute” and lovingly placed him in the bag. She seemed unsure whether placing the Pope in Santa’s mouth was OK or not, but then got the Spirit and gleefully announced that “it just makes me so happy; I can put anything I want in his mouth!”
Oh, I know, Goodwill lady, how I know . .