I hate to be the one to defy sacred myth, but I believe he’s a she.
Think about it. Christmas is a big, organized, warm, fuzzy, and nurturing
social deal and I have a tough time believing a guy could possibly pull
it all off! For starters, the vast majority of men don’t even think about selecting
gifts until Christmas Eve. It’s as if they are all frozen in some kind of
Ebenezerian Time Warp until 3 p.m. on Dec. 24th, when they
– with amazing calm –
call other errant men and plan for a last-minute shopping spree. Once at the mall, they always seem surprised to find only Ronco
products, socket wrench sets, and mood rings left on the shelves. (You
might think this would send them into a fit of panic and guilt, but my
husband tells me it’s an enormous relief because it lessens the 11th
hour decision-making burden.) On this count alone, I’m convinced
Santa is a woman. Surely, if he were a man, everyone in the universe
would wake up Christmas morning to find a rotating musical Chia Pet
under the tree, still in the bag. Another problem for a he-Santa would be getting there. First of all,
there would be no reindeer because they would all be dead, gutted and
strapped on to the rear bumper of the sleigh amid wide-eyed, desperate
claims that buck season had been extended.
Blitz en’s rack would already be on the way to the taxidermist. Even if the male Santa DID have reindeer, he’d still have transportation
problems because he would inevitably get lost up there in the snow and
clouds and then refuse to stop and ask for directions. Add to this the fact that there would be unavoidable delays in the
chimney, where the Bob Vila-like Santa would stop to inspect and
repaint bricks in the flue. He would also need to check for carbon
monoxide fumes in every gas fireplace, and get under every Christmas
tree that is crooked to straighten it to a perfectly upright 90-deg