OK, stop it! Enough already!
I guess we need some rules around here, beginning and ending with, “Don’t make Santa Claus into a boogieman.” I know him personally, and he’s the most gracious and loving human being you’d ever want to meet. In the past week or so, since turkey carcasses began clogging our landfills, I’ve heard two mothers making a boogieman out of my dear friend, Santa B. Claus, which he maintains is properly pronounced “Klouse” as opposed to “Claws.” The "B," by the way, stands for the same name as the B in “Johnny B. Goode.”
One mother, bless her heart, I overheard telling her child, whom I estimated to be around 5: “Now remember, if you’re not a good boy in the store with Mommy, Santa won’t bring you as many toys as you want.”
