OSHA doesn’t reach the north pole

Happy Holidays folks. If jokes about the holiday’s aren’t your cup of tea then this might be considered a tea you don’t like that has been peed in. With all the scenes of cheer and joy and small people forced to build toys I couldn’t help but wonder what the employer rules surrounding Santa would be. Let’s face the facts people, he’s running a sweatshop. You have never seen a scene where the elves are on their coffee (or smoke) break and discussing what they’re going to do with the overtime pay on next weeks paycheck. Why you say? Because that smug, fat bastard has taken it upon himself to disallow breaks. These poor people are powerless against him because he’s about 3 times their size. Of course he rules with an iron fist up there.

Another point to make is the about moral. Now I’m not sure if the movies are truly an accurate portrayal of how the workshop (sweatshop) in the north pole runs but if they are, this makes for an even more disturbing scene. Not only are these people forced into living in their own killing floor but it appears they are part of a cult. Nobody is that willing to love such an unfortunate working/living situation unless they are a crazy sadist. So Santa grabs these elves, takes ’em up north, and then brainwashes them into joining the cult and worshiping him.

My final point to make today before causing too many of you to cry through the holidays is this: Santa Claus hates Mrs. Claus. Why else does he force other people to leave him snacks? This man travels the world raiding peoples pantries. In my book, this is not a saint. This is a mooch. How is it even possible to eat that much sugary food? Obviously he hates his wife’s food, hates himself enough that he runs across the world away from and stuffs his face the whole time. Think about it this way: If every time I went to a friend’s house and asked them for cookies or something to drink other than water, they would consider me a mooch. And probably more a dick than they already do.

Well, before I head off to my usual Christmas Eve tradition of heading down to the bar and get well and lit up, I wish you all the best. Survive the holidays, survive your families, and if you feel it necessary go ahead and paste my face on Scrooge’s body. See you all in the next year with more pictures in the posts.


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