In the first war to end all wars humanity obliterated the fishbirds, wiping them out in their entirety within a generation. Humans cannibalized the fishbirds, enslaved them, executed them, forced them to kill one another for sport, and traded them as labor for currency and land until the last of them was slaughtered by decree from the first King of Humanity, a descendant, as all humans are, of the first human being … who was descended from fishbirds.
Genetic freaks that we (humans) are, it is astounding that we still exist. I see vinegar leaves replacing us some time in the future or maybe a race of North Pole elves liberated from their millennial enslavement by red-suited Vikings pretending to be relatives of Santa whenever visitors approach. Santa, meanwhile, is a drunken sot who visits his children worldwide only once a year and leaves presents to make up for his long absences. He’s all-seeing, all-knowing, he scares the shit out of children everywhere, wondering if they’ll be punished for being naughty because, fuck, what the hell does it mean to be “nice” all year round?
This guy’s a fucking prick, this Santa Claus. I’m gonna kick his ass for breaking into my house this year. Fucking Santa. He’s drinking booze left by the fire, eating pot brownies, and having sex with some kid’s mom at 4:00 AM on Christmas morning. He leaves a choo-choo train and some socks, like that makes up for his dickish behavior. Fucker.
What’s worse is when the guy shows up at malls with a few elves and starts dancing and singing carols, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas, ho-ho-ho-ing his way up and down the walkways, past the Apple store, Footlocker, and Spencer’s Gifts to a throne under a giant four-story glass dome. Santa, bedecked in red suit, and his green-coated elves with pointed ears, take their places at the seat of royalty while parents herd their children to him, many of whom are whining and screaming, crying and kicking, wailing and begging to please, please, please not have to sit on Santa’s lap, dear Lord, for the love of anything decent and good, please don’t make me go Ma, please Ma, I’m begging you, no, NOOOOOOOO!!!
But the kid goes and some go more readily, some even eager and willing, some bursting with ideas of Barbies and erector sets, bicycles and remote controlled airplanes, dollhouses and sandboxes, guns and money, strippers and blow, depends who and where and how old. Santa soaks up the glory, confidently states his ignorance with authority, and asks to be believed, this fraud posing as a magical grandpa of loving-kindness. Total bullshit.
And when the kids find out he's not real, as they always do, they will feel utterly betrayed, they will lose faith in God, a being who never shows up at all except as the face of Jesus on a piece of toast in southwest Texas. At least Santa swings by annually on Christmas. Jesus never makes his way out the Bible except for storytelling events on Sundays, the story of humanity's emancipation from the fishbirds under the guise of man fallen and then saved by Jesus the Son of God through acquiescence to crucifixion. That’s a message that really diverges from the fishbird evolution story, doesn't it?
It’s to be expected, though. After all, there are all sorts of creation stories. There’s the one about the Mole Person crapping a turd that came to life as the first version of Barack Obama thousands of years ago in Mesopotamia. He reproduced by excreting himself into fertilizer, growing into cotton peoples spreading their genes by pollination of human women. The Obama clan first came to prominence as barbarians in what is now southeastern Europe. They devoured all that they encountered until they were driven underground by Roman armies.
The Obamas survived by reconnecting with their Mole People fecal genetics, surviving by burrowing and eating dirt, bugs, and plant roots. Some varieties of weeds as well. They were discovered by Crusaders from Christian Europe on their way to the Islamic Middle East. They captured the Obamas and sent them back to France, England, and Spain to be used as domesticated farm animals in service of weed and pest control. Some farm hands began having sex with the Mole-like Obama creatures and the offspring began the modern human hybrid line of human-looking Mole Obamas of which Barack is one. Just one more creation story in a long line of creation stories.
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