On Sainthood

So I see they’re installing 2 new saints today. That brings the total number to something like 823. Man, that’s a lot of righteous people. I would have guessed the number wasn’t much higher than 16.

According to scripture, in order to become Saint, one has to perform at least 1 verifiable miracle. Between you and me, the fact that I haven’t been audited by the IRS in 30 years should qualify, given my suspect math. But thankfully, this cannot be verified by anyone. Um, I mean until now.

It seems that the quality of miracles being performed by would-be saints has dropped in recent times. Back in the good ol’ days, people would part red seas, raise the dead, and feed a large group of people with a single loaf of bread.

Nowadays, not hitting or cursing at someone on the morning train commute qualifies.

I think the best part of being a saint would be being named the Patron Saint of something. When I become a saint—notice how I didn’t say, if—I will be named the Patron Saint of Humility. It’s only fitting.

Interestingly, the Jewish faith does not mention much about saints. We’re more into prophets, it appears. Jewish scripture mentions both major and minor prophets. Major prophets would predict 40 years of famine or that some miscreants will build a heinous Idol of a calf right in God’s own backyard. The minor prophets were prone to state things like, “I knew you were going to say that!” and “Looks like it’s going to rain soon.”

Anyway, a big hosanna to the new saints in the Roman Catholic faith. I’m sure you were both great guys and we sure need more of them to offset the doofuses, douchebags and tools that abound on this Earth.

I’m looking at you, Guy Fieri, if you haven’t already burst into flames by this time.

A Heartwarming Christmas Parable

It was a cold Winter’s night but the tree glowed with the light of at least 87 bulbs. He carried the children upstairs and tucked them into their beds, always an endeavor on Christmas eve. Yes, they were restless with excitement, but also because his children were already grown adults and borderline obese—if that pesky Department of Health body fat index chart was to be believed.

He kissed them goodnight and sat there smiling as the Rohypnol he slipped into their glasses of Dr. Pepper took effect. As they adorably snored like two Toro™ riding mowers, he tiptoed back downstairs to wrap their ridiculously overpriced gifts and place them under the tree that had been in the family since the mid-1970s.

Yes, its white aluminum foliage had yellowed a bit (not unlike the phlegm that one expectorates on a chilly eve such as this), but the children howled in protest when he even suggested that they search for a replacement. Unless that was just the coyotes. It was so hard to tell them apart ever since the children gave up shaving. Right after they gave up looking for jobs.

As he slipped and tumbled to the bottom step, he saw him standing there by the tree. Saint Nicholas himself! Unless that was just the concussion talking.

“Ho Ho Ho!” the jolly man in red bellowed, “You know you’re on my bad list this year.”

“You have no power over me,” he replied “For I am Jewish!”

“Shhhh. So am I,” whispered Santa. “I’ve been doing this since the garment industry went belly-up. Can’t beat the hours.”

He thought about it for a moment. “That explains the absence of pigs in ‘The 12 Days of Christmas’! And lobsters! And talk of meat and dairy in the same meal. Now it all makes sense!”

“My boy, I do believe the Christmas spirit is burning brightly in you now,” Santa chuckled. Either that or the chili he ate earlier, he thought. But before he could utter another word to the old elf, Santa was gone. As was his 47-inch LCD flatscreen TV. “You should have bought plasma, you cheap bastard!” he heard Santa shout from his sleigh.

And so he trudged through the snow to get a ladder, some extra large garbage bags and shovel. Those reindeer were up on the roof for a while. Well, he called it a “roof”. Santa merely referred to it as the Christmas litter box.

The True Meaning Of Hanukkah

Many people, even Jewish people, have misunderstood and/or misrepresented the holiday of Hanukkah. They treat it like the Jewish Christmas, focused almost solely upon giving and receiving presents.

But that has nothing to do with the essence of Hanukkah at all.

Hannukah commemorates the miracle when Santa Claus thought he only had enough food for one reindeer but it turned out that he had enough for all nine.

Or something.