Ben Sherwin
Ben Sherwin
Santa really started falling apart after Mrs. Claus died. They had drifted apart in the last few years, living fairly separate lives, but you don't live that long with someone without some nod to a shared history. Nonetheless, I think we were all a bit surprised by the degree of depression that had set in on this otherwise jolly man. Ultimately, while I think he missed the idea of her, the thing that really got him is that it reminded him of his own mortality. There seems to be some conception that because Santa has lived longer than most humans that he is any less of one. The fact that that is not true did not, it seems, prevent Santa from buying into the idea himself.
He acted very human recently in an escalating downward spiral of grief. It is not known outside of a small circle, but Christmas almost didn't happen at all last year. All praise has to go to the elves, who are really underappreciated in the whole scheme of things, especially compared to the reindeer. Christmas is a huge operation with a sophisticated manufacturing vertical, integrated with a proprietary, state-of-the-art fulfillment and delivery system. To give you an idea, consider the question, how many kids don't get what they want for Christmas? Think about that.
The elves knew that they had their work cut out for them going into the holiday season. I don't think that they anticipated, though, the complete lack of leadership from the top. Those little guys really pulled through. They've been doing this for decades and they rallied together as a team and got the toys made and loaded up for delivery. Santa had been a very hands-on manager over the years and the elves dealt with the shift to a more decentralized structure with surprising alacrity. Seriously though, if not they, then who. The reindeer? Unlikely. I'm not saying what they do is easy. Not at all. It is amazing what they can accomplish on one night. No other beast can do that, so I give them their due as the amazing athletes they are. That said, one wouldn't count on them in a pinch and, not to tell tales out of school, but show me a reindeer that isn't a prima donna. Oh, and Rudolph? Doesn't exist. Total myth. You didn't hear it from me.
We all got through last year and figured the big man would come around; we wouldn't have a repeat performance this year. The elves were very hopeful. Santa started laying off the nog (which had been tipping farther away from nutmeg and more toward Captain Morgan) and started hitting the treadmill. The penguins and the narwhal were all buzzing about how he was back. The mood at the North Pole improved dramatically. Even the reindeer, who rarely talked to anyone that wasn't a reindeer, were acting nicely. So, nobody really anticipated what was going to happen next.
Santa had lost a ton of weight. He was ripped for an old guy. Not traditional, OK, but not unlike the days when people called him Kris Kringle at the start of his career. As an aside, Kris Kringle was not his name and I have no idea how that started. There was a Kringle family that lived near here, but no one named Kris and I'm still baffled as to where that came from. Probably some ad exec. Anyway, when Santa shaved his beard down to a van dyke and cut his hair and gelled it back, we probably should have seen the warning signs. Apparently incorrect, we figured it was his way to break out in a fresh new mold. He started hanging out in L.A. and Gstaad with models, drinking vodka martinis with peppermint schnapps and calling himself Klaus (which is actually the correct way to pronounce his name, although he's too polite to correct anyone). He traded in the suit that Mrs. Claus had made him that first Christmas for a red Paul Smith suits with a white shirt and white tie. Whenever someone would say, "Santa!" he'd say, "No, no, man, call me Klaus." You would be surprised how many attractive girls have a Santa fetish (or maybe you wouldn't) and he did very well.
Who knows were this was heading. He clearly had a dark side; don't the most jolly people hide it the best? Santa, I mean Klaus, was the life of the party. That was until he met Jeannine. He had left a party at the Chateau Marmont after Noel and Liam Gallagher had started a fight that had escalated surprisingly quickly and went downstairs to the bar. That is where he met her.
She was petite with short dark hair cut in a bob, pretty in a way you had to think about. She was ostensibly a model/actress, although she worked regularly as neither a model nor an actress. What she really was was a good listener. A native of North Dakota, she understood how a desolate place like the North Pole can exacerbate the descending mood. Don't believe Rankin and Bass, there aren't trees and candy cane forests up there; it's all ice all the time punctuated only by Santa's (very utilitarian and industrial) workshop. That's fine if you're an elf, they actually prefer it, but it can wear on a man. A lot of things apparently had been wearing on Santa for a long time. The pressure of delivering perfectly each Christmas (he saw every flaw even if a kid self-justified the coal)...labor relations with the reindeer (those bastards)...the loss of Mrs. Claus, the woman with whom he started in his benevolent venture (and whom he still loved, he discovered). Since the untimely death of the Winter Warlock, he really had no close friends. The elves, good workers, were preternaturally cheery in a way only non-humans could be and not real companions. Jeannine was able to pull the threads and Santa opened up in a way he hadn't in years.
When Santa got back to the North Pole, he really threw himself into his work. The elves were thankful and relieved. The stress of another Christmas without any strategic vision was really starting to weigh on them. Everyone agreed that the difference was Jeannine, whom he called his "little miracle." The plan was to get through the New Year, vacation in Cabo and see where it went. The polar bears were claiming they heard she was moving up here, but that seems premature and he said nothing about it to me. I asked him what he saw in her. He thought for a while and said, "You know what, Leon, she believes in me." She believes in me. At the end of the day, isn't that what any of us want. You would be surprised at how many people don't believe in Santa. That's got to weigh on a man. I could try to convince you myself, but if you aren't going to believe your own heart, why would you believe a talking snowman?
He acted very human recently in an escalating downward spiral of grief. It is not known outside of a small circle, but Christmas almost didn't happen at all last year. All praise has to go to the elves, who are really underappreciated in the whole scheme of things, especially compared to the reindeer. Christmas is a huge operation with a sophisticated manufacturing vertical, integrated with a proprietary, state-of-the-art fulfillment and delivery system. To give you an idea, consider the question, how many kids don't get what they want for Christmas? Think about that.
The elves knew that they had their work cut out for them going into the holiday season. I don't think that they anticipated, though, the complete lack of leadership from the top. Those little guys really pulled through. They've been doing this for decades and they rallied together as a team and got the toys made and loaded up for delivery. Santa had been a very hands-on manager over the years and the elves dealt with the shift to a more decentralized structure with surprising alacrity. Seriously though, if not they, then who. The reindeer? Unlikely. I'm not saying what they do is easy. Not at all. It is amazing what they can accomplish on one night. No other beast can do that, so I give them their due as the amazing athletes they are. That said, one wouldn't count on them in a pinch and, not to tell tales out of school, but show me a reindeer that isn't a prima donna. Oh, and Rudolph? Doesn't exist. Total myth. You didn't hear it from me.
We all got through last year and figured the big man would come around; we wouldn't have a repeat performance this year. The elves were very hopeful. Santa started laying off the nog (which had been tipping farther away from nutmeg and more toward Captain Morgan) and started hitting the treadmill. The penguins and the narwhal were all buzzing about how he was back. The mood at the North Pole improved dramatically. Even the reindeer, who rarely talked to anyone that wasn't a reindeer, were acting nicely. So, nobody really anticipated what was going to happen next.
Santa had lost a ton of weight. He was ripped for an old guy. Not traditional, OK, but not unlike the days when people called him Kris Kringle at the start of his career. As an aside, Kris Kringle was not his name and I have no idea how that started. There was a Kringle family that lived near here, but no one named Kris and I'm still baffled as to where that came from. Probably some ad exec. Anyway, when Santa shaved his beard down to a van dyke and cut his hair and gelled it back, we probably should have seen the warning signs. Apparently incorrect, we figured it was his way to break out in a fresh new mold. He started hanging out in L.A. and Gstaad with models, drinking vodka martinis with peppermint schnapps and calling himself Klaus (which is actually the correct way to pronounce his name, although he's too polite to correct anyone). He traded in the suit that Mrs. Claus had made him that first Christmas for a red Paul Smith suits with a white shirt and white tie. Whenever someone would say, "Santa!" he'd say, "No, no, man, call me Klaus." You would be surprised how many attractive girls have a Santa fetish (or maybe you wouldn't) and he did very well.
Who knows were this was heading. He clearly had a dark side; don't the most jolly people hide it the best? Santa, I mean Klaus, was the life of the party. That was until he met Jeannine. He had left a party at the Chateau Marmont after Noel and Liam Gallagher had started a fight that had escalated surprisingly quickly and went downstairs to the bar. That is where he met her.
She was petite with short dark hair cut in a bob, pretty in a way you had to think about. She was ostensibly a model/actress, although she worked regularly as neither a model nor an actress. What she really was was a good listener. A native of North Dakota, she understood how a desolate place like the North Pole can exacerbate the descending mood. Don't believe Rankin and Bass, there aren't trees and candy cane forests up there; it's all ice all the time punctuated only by Santa's (very utilitarian and industrial) workshop. That's fine if you're an elf, they actually prefer it, but it can wear on a man. A lot of things apparently had been wearing on Santa for a long time. The pressure of delivering perfectly each Christmas (he saw every flaw even if a kid self-justified the coal)...labor relations with the reindeer (those bastards)...the loss of Mrs. Claus, the woman with whom he started in his benevolent venture (and whom he still loved, he discovered). Since the untimely death of the Winter Warlock, he really had no close friends. The elves, good workers, were preternaturally cheery in a way only non-humans could be and not real companions. Jeannine was able to pull the threads and Santa opened up in a way he hadn't in years.
When Santa got back to the North Pole, he really threw himself into his work. The elves were thankful and relieved. The stress of another Christmas without any strategic vision was really starting to weigh on them. Everyone agreed that the difference was Jeannine, whom he called his "little miracle." The plan was to get through the New Year, vacation in Cabo and see where it went. The polar bears were claiming they heard she was moving up here, but that seems premature and he said nothing about it to me. I asked him what he saw in her. He thought for a while and said, "You know what, Leon, she believes in me." She believes in me. At the end of the day, isn't that what any of us want. You would be surprised at how many people don't believe in Santa. That's got to weigh on a man. I could try to convince you myself, but if you aren't going to believe your own heart, why would you believe a talking snowman?