Christmas Lights, Selangor, Malaysia

Who’s Delivering Your Christmas Presents This Year?

Here in North America, we pretty much know what to expect of the mythological figure who supposedly puts our Christmas presents under the tree each December 24 (or January 5, depending). Well, sure, we all know our family members really do it, but we like to blame a certain red-suited fat man.

 

Santa's pseudonyms are numerous. Will you be getting your Christmas presents from St. Nick, Kris Kringle, Sinterklass -- or the Krampus?

 

Hereabouts we generally call him Santa Claus, and he’s pretty good at making sure the latest PS3 or iPhone4 is under the tree, along with basics like underwear and socks. But when pressed, even Americans call him other things: St. Nicholas, St. Nick, Kris Kringle.

 

Santa Around the World

 

Santa’s fun to believe in, despite the fact that he’d have to not just break but smash to smithereens various laws of physics to do his job. Otherwise, he’d fly so fast he’d burst into flame. So here’s a novel idea: maybe there’s this Santa franchise you can buy into. We’ve all seen multiple mall Santas, yes?

 

And we call him all kinds of things all over the world, like Baba Chaghaloo (my personal favorite), Daidain na Nollaig, Deda Mraz, Father Christmas, Hoteioshom,  Joulupukki, Julenissen, Jultomten, Kanakaloka, Pere Noel, Weihnachtsmann, Sinterklaas, Swiety Mikolaj,…well, you get the picture.

 

The Only Logical Conclusion

 

Even with magic, the only way that one man can deliver every kid’s Christmas gift in one night without time travel is to be (drumroll please)… more than one man! So obviously Santa Claus has to be a franchise of fat fellows who each cover a limited territory.

 

Sorry, Virginia, there’s not just one Santa Claus. But someone’s going to bring that La La Loopsie doll you asked for, don’t worry.

 

One Little Precaution

 

One thing to keep in mind about godlike figures who shower you with gifts is that they tend to balance out with their exact opposites; Grinches to their Santas, if you will.

 

While Americans celebrate a sanitized version of the Fat Man (thanks mostly to Coca-Cola, believe it or not), beware if you visit an alpine country during Yuletide. Brats are likely to get a visit from the Santa’s buddy, the Krampus. This ugly guy is the classic anti-Santy.

 

So Be Good, for Goddness Sake

 

Now, the luckier naughty kids in places like Austria, Bavaria, Hungary, and Slovenia might get coal or switches in their stockings. The really rotten ones get invited over for Christmas dinner at the Krampus household…if you get my drift.

 

I really like this :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mZYXzUpEi04&feature=youtu.be

Christmas quotes - 

It was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, "God Bless Us, Every One!

 

Time was with most of us, when Christmas Day, encircling all our limited world like a magic ring, left nothing out for us to miss or seek; bound together all our home enjoyments, affections, and hopes; grouped everything and everyone round the Christmas fire, and make the little picture shining in our bright young eyes, complete.

 

Christmas is a time when everybody wants his past forgotten and his present remembered. What I don't like about office Christmas parties is looking for a job the next day.

 

Somehow, not only for Christmas, But all the long year through, The joy that you give to others, Is the joy that comes back to you. And the more you spend in blessing, The poor and lonely and sad, The more of your heart's possessing, Returns to you glad.

 

Heap on the wood!-the wind is chill; But let it whistle as it will, We'll keep our Christmas merry still.

 

Christmas--that magic blanket that wraps itself about us, that something so intangible that it is like a fragrance. It may weave a spell of nostalgia. Christmas may be a day of feasting, or of prayer, but always it will be a day of remembrance--a day in which we think of everything we have ever loved.

 

Christmas is the season for kindling the fire of hospitality in the hall, the genial flame of charity in the heart.

 

Christmas is not a time nor a season, but a state of mind. To cherish peace and goodwill, to be plenteous in mercy, is to have the real spirit of Christmas.

 When I dream of Christmas,

 I dream of wondrous things,

 of mistletoe and holly,

 and joy the season brings.

 

Of snowy fields, and rosy cheeks,

 sleds careening fast and sleek,

 houses lighted—festive, gay,

 preparing for that special day—

 

When family gathers ‘round the tree,

 anticipating what will be

 in Christmas boxes tied up tight—

 colorful wrappings shining bright.

 

Sharing love and laughter there,

 while grandpa snoozes in his chair—

 dinner served with all the trimmings

 as we await New Year beginnings.

 

Children scurried off to bed—

 on goose-down pillows rest their head,

 saying prayers for blessings given,

 thanking Him, our Lord in Heaven.

 

Grandma reading ‘bout the One,

 Jesus Christ, God’s only Son,

 enduring pain and sins of man—

 King of Kings, the great “I AM.”

 

Yes, when I dream of Christmas,

 I dream of wondrous things...

The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't been anywhere in years since his wife had passed away. It was just another day to him. He

didn't hate Christmas, just couldn't find a reason to celebrate. He was sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the last hour and wondering what it was all about when the door opened and a homeless man stepped through.

 

Instead of throwing the man out, Old George as he was known by his customers, told the man to come and sit by the heater and warm up. "Thank you, but I don't mean to intrude," said the stranger. "I see you're busy, I'll just go." "Not without something hot in your belly." George said.

 

He turned and opened a wide mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. "It ain't much, but it's hot and tasty. Stew ... Made it myself. When you're done, there's coffee and it's fresh."

 

Just at that moment he heard the "ding" of the driveway bell. "Excuse me, be right back," George said. There in the driveway was an old '53 Chevy. Steam was rolling out of the front. The driver was panicked. "Mister can you help me!" said the driver, with a deep Spanish accent. "My wife is with child and my car is broken." George opened the hood. It was bad. The block looked cracked from the cold, the car was dead. "You ain't going in this thing," George said as he turned away.

 

"But Mister, please help ..." The door of the office closed behind George as he went inside. He went to the office wall and got the keys to his old truck, and went back outside. He walked around the building, opened the garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple was waiting. "Here, take my truck," he said. "She ain't the best thing you ever looked at, but she runs real good."

 

George helped put the woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into the night. He turned and walked back inside the office. "Glad I gave 'em the truck, their tires were shot too. That 'ol truck has brand new ." George thought he was talking to the stranger, but the man had gone. The Thermos was on the desk, empty, with a used coffee cup beside it. "Well, at least he got something in his belly," George thought.

 

George went back outside to see if the old Chevy would start. It cranked slowly, but it started. He pulled it into the garage where the truck had been. He thought he would tinker with it for something to do. Christmas Eve meant no customers. He discovered the block hadn't cracked, it was just the bottom hose on the radiator. "Well, shoot, I can fix this," he said to

himself. So he put a new one on.

 

"Those tires ain't gonna get 'em through the winter either." He took the snow treads off of his wife's old Lincoln. They were like new and he wasn't going to drive the car anyway.

 

 

The front door of the office flew open. In burst a young man with a gun. "Give me all your cash! Do it now!" the young man yelled. His hand was shaking and George could tell that he had never done anything like this before.


"That's the guy that shot me!" exclaimed the officer.


"Son, why are you doing this?" asked George, "You need to put the cannon away. Somebody else might get hurt."


The young man was confused. "Shut up old man, or I'll shoot you, too. Now give me the cash!"


The cop was reaching for his gun. "Put that thing away," George said to the cop, "we got one too many in here now."


He turned his attention to the young man. "Son, it's Christmas Eve. If you need money, well then, here. It ain't much but it's all I got. Now put that pea shooter away."


George pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man, reaching for the barrel of the gun at the same time. The young man released his grip on the gun, fell to his knees and began to cry. "I'm not very good at this am I? All I wanted was to buy something for my wife and son," he went on. "I've lost my job, my rent is due, my car got repossessed last week."


George handed the gun to the cop. "Son, we all get in a bit of squeeze now and then. The road gets hard sometimes, but we make it through the best we can."


He got the young man to his feet, and sat him down on a chair across from the cop. "Sometimes we do stupid things." George handed the young man a cup of coffee. "Bein' stupid is one of the things that makes us human. Comin' in here with a gun ain't the answer. Now sit there and get warm and we'll sort this thing out."


The young man had stopped crying. He looked over to the cop. "Sorry I shot you. It just went off. I'm sorry officer." "Shut up and drink your coffee " the cop said.