I believed in Santa Claus until I was 12. I held on because I refused to accept that my parents and every other adult in the country were lying to children. It just didn't make sense. Fortunately I learned a thing or two from the incident. Things such as: 1) Lying to children is okay. Doesn't matter that you teach children that lying is bad, and that if they're bad then Santa Claus won't come. Tricking children into behaving is much easier than actually doing your job as a parent. When I have kids, I'll tell them if they don't clean their room, the monster that lives under their bed will come out at night and rip their faces off. Hey, whatever works. 2) God's probably fake, too. Parents tell you that Santa's real, and even though you can't see him and there's no proof he exists, you have to believe anyway. Then they try the same trick on adults with God. Sorry, guys. Fool me once. 3) That guy at the mall in the red suit? Probably a pedophile. Yeah, turns out that guy at the mall whose lap I sat on wasn't really Santa after all. He was just some dude with a very pointy lap. Some creepy old dude who can't get a real job and wants children as close to his groin as possible. Okay, not all mall Santas are pedophiles. Probably only 93 or 94 percent. I still say that's too many.

4) If a guy has more than four names, something’s probably up. Santa Claus also goes by the names Kris Kringle, St. Nick, and Father Christmas to name a few. You know who else has four names? Guys in the mafia and rappers. None of those guys should be trusted. I’ve got my eye on you, you ambiguous motherfuckers. 5) It’s better to get the approval of strangers than your parents. Your parents’ love is one thing, but to get the really good stuff in life, some guy you’ve never met who lives at the North Pole has to think you’re a good person. While that turned out to be not true, the lesson has stayed. Which is why I’m now applying for a job as a male stripper. If those gay men and mousy secretaries who I’ve never met appreciate my skinny-yet-well-oiled torso, I’ll know I’m doing something right.

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