A lot of people don't believe in you and every single one is a damn idiot.
You were born in Turkey, went to Church, became a "Professional Christian," gave lots of gifts to the poor and was an original signer of the "Nicene Creed" (which is like the religious Declaration of Independence).
You were made a Saint because of the gift giving part of your ministry.
St. Nicholas morphed into Santa Claus because wealthier people couldn't stand the thought of poor people getting all of the gifts.
A complete makeover took place culminating in the 1920s when Coca-Cola used you in an advertising campaign, making you a fat, jolly, smoker who prefers the color red.
They made you cute.
You were anything but cute.
You were deadly serious ... about your faith ... helping the poor ... fasting on Wednesdays and Fridays ... and putting all your spare change in the shoes of poor people who came to your Church.
So Santa, I still believe ... though I prefer to call you Nick.
So Nick ... here's my Christmas list.
It's not much ... primarily because I'm not an asker.
But I'd really like more time.
It took Sarah and I a lifetime and multiple divorces to get to us and we've got lots of life to enjoy ... making up for all of that life we didn't have together.
I know that you know what I'm talking about.
Whatever you have to give our kids would be great too but it's up to them to have a relationship with you ... or no (as Sarah and the girls say).
That's pretty much it.
Thanks Nick.
Have yourself a merry little Christmas!
While everybody else is buying stuff, I have no doubt whatsoever, you'll still be slipping your spare change inside the shoes of poor people looking for God.
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