Once Upon A Time In Philadelphia...

...I was chased around my father's car while wearing a full Santa Claus outfit by a drunk guy in a wifebeater and jeans. True story, and lest you doubt me, let me clarify that it was south Philly. Fortunately, I was a lot less Santa-shaped then, so I could stay ahead of my pursuer until my dad (I was all of 15 at the time, and needed a chauffeur, and I swear I'll explain the whole thing at a later date) could reason with the guy.

So when I see commercials like the one from Kay jewelers where a Santa tells some jackanapes to buy his wife a present from Kay because A)Santa's spilling the beans on wifey's unimaginative Christmas list or B)Santa did some of his shopping there for Mrs. Claus, in which case I weep for the psychological trauma to be suffered by the elves when the Clauses inevitably divorce, I find myself with the uncontrollable urge to shout, "Try that in South Philly, you @#$@$Q#@$#!" at the television.

Which is probably not in the appropriate Christmas spirit. Then again, I still don't have my remote controlled Christmas pterodactyl. So there.