Decades ago, when I was a little obnoxious snot-nosed brat, I used to take great pleasure playing and playing and replaying my mother’s Smothers Brothers album, Mom Always Liked You Best.

I don’t think that people today really appreciate how genuinely subversive The Smothers Brothers were in their time. We typically associate them with the cheesy sixties sets of their variety show (that I’m too young to have ever seen), the goofy folk songs and Tom’s yo-yo tricks. In actuality, they were doing material that comedians today couldn’t get away with. My favorite skit was one where, while Dick Smothers ardently tries to defend his good name, Tom accuses Santa Claus of being a pedophile. He begins by subtly questioning Santa’s abnormal fixation with little children, his lifestyle choices, and then sarcastically mimicking Santa “Hello, little elf. Want a piece of candy?” Dick replies, “Knock that out!”, and Tom snaps back, “He a dirty old man!” I would maniacally laugh like an ADHD baby on meth as I played that skit over and over again.

Seriously, think about it. Any grown man who is THAT into other people’s children really should be watched very closely. I would suspect that Santa Claus has a personality not all together unlike that of Michael Jackson. Would you let Michael Jackson sneak into your children’s bedrooms in the dark of night and shove presents into their sox? Santa Claus is really creepy. I think the FBI should give serious consideration to obtaining a search warrant of the North Pole. Do they have jurisdiction over the North Pole? Is it coincidence that Santa lives in a place outside any federally regulated child protection laws? Suspicious indeed.

A few years ago, I met Tom Smothers. Although I typically don’t make a habit of gushing over washed up has-been celebrities, in his case I simply had to tell him how much I enjoyed that album when I was a little kid. I told him about the skit and he at first didn’t seem to remember making the album, but then his eyes lit up and he said to me, “Oh yeah, I remember making that album! That’s the one where I sang: you better not shout, you better not cry, you better not pout and I’m telling you why, BECAUSE SANTA CLAUS IS DEAD!”

“That’s right” I exclaimed, “I totally forgot about that song!”

He then stood up, pulled out a yo-yo and did a few tricks for me, as I stood there with a shit eating grin like a ADHD baby on meth.

Okay, I promise ... no more Christmas stories. Happy holidays; and if you have children, and plan to take them to the mall to sit in Santa’s lap, watch him like a hawk!