Rudolph the Camel

image from pinterest.com 

Rudolph the Camel

“So much depends on how one defines naughty.”

--Anonymous.

As an innocent kid,

the holidays always

confused me.

Some Christmas cards

depicted Jesus in Judea,

with herds of camels,

and palm and olive trees,

while others depict

Santa Claus up to his butt

in ice and snow

somewhere way up north,

surrounded by fir trees.

I mean if farm animals

were allowed to be present

during the birth of Christ,

why aren’t those same animals

allowed in churches

as part of the congregation?

Now Santa Claus

is nicknamed old Saint Nick, right?

His origins can be traced back

to a monk in Turkey in 280 AD.

I guess this monk became

a saint, known for his kindness.

He was known as the patron saint

of sailors. But Jesus was not a sailor,

that was Peter, right?

Jesus had no use for a boat;

he could walk on water.

He didn’t have to go fishing,

he would just snap his fingers

and a cartload of fish and loaves

would appear.

Later on, why did Saint Nick,

after he had become a bishop and shit,

give up the Mother Church,

take the vows of poverty,

and immigrated to Finland? Was it because

suddenly he had a jones for tannenbaums,

and there were no fir trees in Israel--or did

he ditch his vestments in order to give up

celibacy, which was reported to be much more

satisfying than masturbation, homosexuality,

or beastiality?

He must have set up his first headquarters

in Lapland, where reindeer are plentiful. I 

always thought it would have been cool if

Santa had recruited camels to pull his sled.

Then Rudolph would have had a much bigger

nose.

Obviously, St. Nick had to get back in the good

graces of God in order to bring about the

miracles necessary to make Christmas work.

So why doesn’t the bible have any mention of

these Christmas miracles? 

I think I was around ten, and during that holiday

season, after reading Steinbeck’s East of Eden,

I came to the conclusion that the mythos of

Christmas, part Madison Avenue, part

ecclesiastical, was mostly Hallmark bull shit,

and that I no longer had to search for a logical

thread within the miasma of holiday madness,

and this clarity, this epiphany, helped me elude 

any sense of guilt, and that I could just be

naughty ad infinitum.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub