Rule #178: The Santa Rule
I’ve always been a fan of Santa. Not because I want Christmas to be a shopping spree, but because—let’s be honest—the guy is a total badass. He’s got an industrial-scale toy factory, a private army of elves, flying livestock, and the ability to time-travel the entire planet in one night. Plus, as a fellow plus-size dude, I respect anyone who can pull off fur trim and a belt the size of a Buick.
But the real genius of Santa? Leverage. When my kids were toddlers, just dropping his name was like firing off a parental nuclear weapon.
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Whining? “Santa’s watching.” Boom—silence.
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Lying? “Naughty list.” Instant confession.
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Tantrum? “Guess who’s not getting presents?” Full emotional reset.
For one glorious month, I was basically Gandalf with a sugar cookie.
The tragedy, of course, is that kids eventually stop believing. And once that magic evaporates, you’re just back to yelling “Because I said so!” and threatening to cancel Disney+.
Which got me thinking: why don’t adults get a Santa? Because if anyone needs an all-seeing, judgment-dispensing, chubby overlord, it’s grown-ups.
Let’s face it: some people are just assholes. And I don’t mean “had a bad day” assholes—I mean full-time, salaried assholes with benefits. The ones who cut you off in traffic, talk loud on speakerphone in public, or treat waiters like peasants in a medieval tavern. Society has no real punishment for them. They just… keep existing.
Imagine if you could yell “He sees you!” at one of these people and they instantly course-corrected. Road-rage guy slams on the brakes, apologizes with jazz hands, and lets you merge. Grocery store Karen suddenly realizes she’s not the center of the universe and puts the avocado down gently. That’s the kind of miracle I’d actually believe in.
Heaven and hell don’t cut it—assholes can’t think past next Tuesday. They need real-time consequences. That’s why I’m proposing Adult Santa.
Here’s the plan: we launch a Kickstarter, build a “South Pole Workshop,” and staff it with magical penguins (because obviously). Instead of Barbies and BB guns, Adult Santa hands out Teslas, vacation homes, or front-row concert tickets. And when you act like an ass, he takes them away immediately. Imagine the look on Chad’s face when his new BMW vanishes because he parked across two spaces at Target.
It’s brilliant. It’s just. It’s… honestly, the only way humanity has a chance.
So, until Adult Santa shows up, remember this: if you’re being an asshole, just know… you better watch out.
Love, Dad