Santa Claus

Chicken and I were in The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf the other day when a holiday song started to play. It was "Santa Baby" sung by the Pussycat Dolls if my Googling fingers are correct. If you do not know the song, it is a rather suggestive song that sounds as if the Pussycat Dolls are greatly interested in sitting on Santa's lap and talking about what pops up. This fact was not lost on my eleven year-old, and an outraged tirade quickly spewed forth from his filthy, nasty lips:

"Oh. My. God. You do NOT fuck Santa. Santa is a nice old man that brings you presents. You are NOT supposed to FUCK him. He climbs down your chimney, not into your fucking vagina you stupid slut. Oh. My. God. No one fucks Santa. No one."

And yes, I tolerate occasional outbursts from the Chicken. Even ones that contains very bad words, because I firmly believe that words only hold the power that you give them. Also, his ass is totally grounded if he cusses around his grandparents, his teachers, church, etc. He must filter that mouth before he kisses his mother with it.

Anyway, doesn't he have a point there? Santa is jolly and bowl full of jelly in the songs that I remember as a child. Santa definitely does not have a penis. Or balls. Nope, not my Santa.

And furthermore, don't remind me that the song is a remake of a song that was originally aired well before my time. I don't care. Santa = nice. Santa (where's the symbol for not equal when you need it?) DOES NOT = horny pervert. Don't fuck up my Santa like that for goodness sake.