You think you know what goes on around Christmas. You think you understand the Santa mythos, and the core ideas of the reindeer games, but honestly, you people have no idea. Everything you have been taught about Santa and his Reindeer wrong. Lies perpetuated by pop culture, Christopher Columbus style. You actually think the eight famous reindeer that pull Santa’s sleigh are the exact same eight reindeer you were singing about when you were a child? Who, in turn, are supposed to be the same exact eight reindeer that were pulling Santa’s Sleigh when your Parent’s were singing those same songs, long before you were even born? You actually think that? Oh, it is not that simple. And this tale is sordid, so I recommend pulling up a tree trunk and lending an antler for the next few minutes. You are going to want to hear all of this. It won’t be easy to hear, but it is necessary so we can buck the these trends, pun intended.

Let me start by telling you a little bit about the Winter Circle. The Winter Circle is a sort of like an elitist circle, assembled and run by Santa himself. The most powerful people in the North Pole converge once every five years. Frosty, Santa, Jack Frost, Higgins (that is the name of Santa’s main elf, for those not in the know). They assemble at a giant table and they decide everything. Who is naughty or nice. What towns get a white Christmas. They decide what regions get visited first. Anything Christmas and Santa related, they decide.

The reason they meet once every five years is because that is about how long even the strongest reindeer can do the Santa run before its age starts to show. At this point, the aging reindeer is “retired” and his name and slot become open. While it is often thought among the reindeer themselves that when the others are retired, they are sent off to a Winter farm somewhere deep in a magical, ageless wood where they live out their lives, prancing and eating winter berries until they pass away naturally of old age, that is just not the case. They are not that lucky.

He takes each of his potential new reindeer on an exhausting, hundred mile ground trek to test them first before he takes them into his elite squad.

Much like  a slaughterhouse, when a reindeer is “retired”, they are brought on to the killing floor, and then their skulls are caved in with a giant mallet, and their throats are cut, ensuring a painful, undignified death. The meat, bones and pelt are all utilized by the various sweat shop elves that are still crazy enough to work for Santa, under the counter. The truth is, the killing floor in the North Pole is one of the most upsetting things you will ever see. It is all grated so the blood and guts can fall through and leave no visible gore. But go downstairs, where the meat is processed, and you will never sleep again. Honestly.

When they open a new position to take an allotted name for the reindeer ( such as Dasher or Prancer ) they then send out five Reindeer scouts, elves who go to various parts of the world to find the animals most suitable to become the next generation of glorified Santa transit. This is the part where things get real tricky. You see, Reindeer don’t seem to know that this gig actually sucks. As a matter of fact, they seem to think it is quite the opposite. It is like the be-all, end-all for them. Outside of eating grass and prancing, this is the only thing reindeer want. To them, it is the one way you can leave a legacy. Can bring some pride to your pack. And they are woefully misled, on purpose. That’s why I am blowing the whistle on this. Because honestly, it gets real ugly.

You see, the first Reindeer that get the chance to do the gig is the first descendant of the reindeer they just killed, which as you all know, is (a twisted form of) nepotism. But the reindeer don’t know you get killed at the end of the gig, they think there is some 27 virgins type of metaphysical transformation to a higher plane of reindeer being, which just isn’t the case. So they aspire for a position where they are used and killed, and they don’t even know it. That is like willingly signing up to be a slave. Who would do that?

And the worst part is that it pits them against each other, like some reindeer version of The Amazing Race. So ultimately, you have reindeer from the same clan, going after each other in the weeks preceding the first arrival of the scouts. They try to gore each other or scar each other so they wont be chosen to fly Santa’s sleigh. There have even been cases of bucks killing their entire families a week before the preliminaries from all the stress. Like I said, it gets ugly, and for what? So a nation of ungrateful children can get toys that they will play with for fifteen minutes before losing interest? How is that fair?

See that pic right there? Yes, that is slavery.

Also, Santa doesn’t yell their names, like in the song. He yells terrible, terrible things at them. He studies their histories, so that, in flight, he can yell pertinent things to whip them up into a frenzy so he can get a better performance out of them. Sick, right?

Being Santa’s reindeer is a life I would wish on no creature. 363 days of brutal, muscle-building exercises. Twenty-hour training sessions. Starvation weeks before Xmas to ensure they can burn muscle consistently without it affecting their agility. And here is the kicker, Reindeer don’t know how to fly, and they sure as shit can’t be taught, so how do you think they learn to fly? I wont say too much in fear of losing my audience, but I will say this, it is called “snowcaine” and no one knows where it is from, or how Santa is the only one who has it, but the shit makes you fly. Like, literally. And in the worst cases of abuse, it is said a reindeer’s nose can turn bright red, glowing for several days. Sound familiar. Weird how you never heard of Rudolph after that one, successful Christmas he had, so many years ago, huh? Yeah, well, overdosing on snowcaine is not something people sing about.  More on Rudolph soon.

But even Santa has “high” hopes of getting rid of the need to seek out reindeer by genetically modifying his own. Yes, some real Hitler shit going on up at the North Pole, and it sickens me that no one knows. Santa has a core group of scientist elves he employs who have mastered D.N.A splicing and gene manipulation, decades before anyone in mainstream science even knew what it was. For years, they have been breeding what they consider to be the perfect Reindeer, existing only for 12 days at a time (and yes, that is the basis of the 12 days of Christmas song, believe it or not) but their success rate has not quite been to his liking yet (they die mid-flight sometimes, which can be a real bitch for the fat man) so he tends to have a sleigh pulled by half modified, half-wild reindeer, and it has worked for him for years so far.

Oh, and speaking of Santa, what do you think his deal is? Old, immortal guy who works one day a year? How do you get that gig? Don’t even get me started on that. That is its own story. I will say, a great deal of witchcraft and Satan worship goes on at the North Pole, but you didn’t hear it from me.

The only gift he truly wants to give your child is his pecker, but I digress.

I mean, ofcourse Satan is involved, right? How else do you think an obese, 75-year-old man can stay alive for two thousand years and manage to travel the entire globe in one night? Yeah, it is all starting to make sense, huh?

It should be pretty evident that these scientists that work for “Saint” Nick are some evil, Nazi-satanist-scientists. Don’t even say that three times fast because you can mistakenly summon them, and getting rid of Nazi-Devil-elves is not as easy as you think. I mean, the stuff they have discovered and done is too ungodly to even utter. And then we have the Rudolph gene, which was created upon his death and isolated. Oh god, when I think of the things they did to that first Rudolph, I cringe. ” I Fly the globe in the dead of night, sometimes when it is snowing! I need some f*cking headlights!” He would yell everytime he came home those first few years. But who knew to what sick levels of depravity he would go to achieve those ends.

I can still hear little Rudolph’s screams. They haunt my dreams.

Most accurate portrayal ever!

And the way they did it was so evil, yet so brilliant, it makes you even more aware of their levels of depravity. Santa had internal spies following a few families of Reindeer to see who were the most prone to argue and dysfunction  He then waited until they were having their fawn and he scooped in and said something was wrong with the baby but it would be best for the parent’s not to see, He then wrapped it in a white blanket and carried it away. Truth is, nothing was wrong with it, Yet.

But by God, he would not stop until this reindeer’s nose was bio-luminescent. Thing is, he didn’t stop there either. Like all creatures with bio luminescence  Rudolph’s nose would glow green, and green does not light up the night. So back to the splicers Rudolph went, and no one knows what they did to make that green color glow red, but whatever it is, it took a week straight and it broke that poor little fawn. That first lab-made Rudolph came back with dead eyes. No soul. Just a bright light to stick at the front of the sleigh to cut a swath through the darkness.

And every five years, Santa does it to a new one.

” I pray for my own death!”

And this is the life Reindeer want? The lives Reindeer would kill their own for?  I say no. I say it is time we rise up and crush this fat man under-hoof for what he hath done to their species, and to all the world.

Let him take back his useless toys and trinkets, and give the reindeer the life back that they truly deserve. They are stronger, brighter, faster, and braver than he is. And we cannot change any of this until we admit it is happening. So turn up your antlers people, because IT IS HAPPENING, and only we can rise up and be brave enough to stop it.  Be brave enough to charge the fat man in his little toy compound in the North Pole, and gore him on the end of the very antlers he tries to modify for better wind resistant. We need to run through the woods on these liberated reindeer, with his entrails hanging from their antlers, decorating the forest with his insides as we ride.

It is time for us to stand, haunch to haunch, hoof to hoof, and let Santa know: No More Reindeer Games, Motherf*cker. No more….

You see a good guy and a bad guy. I see two best friends, chilling, having a pose-off. It is no coincidence that they have the same name, with mixed up letters. Fight the real evil, people.