Santa Claus is coming to town Version 15.0

Alas, December 24th has arrived for the 15th time (well from my point of view). As you may have unfortunately found out, it is a time that reeks of commercialism, horrible TV specials and lack of sports. On top of that, my 87 year old neighbours still get up each Christmas Eve (a wonder in itself) and walk around the neighborhood singing Christmas Carols (albeit with the assistance of some Listerine--though its effectiveness can be debated). The highlight of the day is the anticipation for Kris Kringle/Chris Cringle/Joly St. Nick/Santa/Xanta/Mr. Claus/My mom/Santa Claus arrival with gifts.

After going through this dreadful cycle for years and years, one learns to avoid some things. I snuggle with my large book on Conducting in my bed, listening to the twisted music of Eugene Ysaye, with the hopes of leaving the loud pop songs of the Backstreet Boys (Nathalie-you would enjoy) and the last minute shopping behind. If it hadn't been for YouTube, I would still be surfing through TV Channels in vain, looking for anything that isn't a nativity scene recreation. As for the carols, I convince my parents to put the house into "sleep mode" so that the sage carolers ignore our house. Yet there is one thing I must always put up with, and it is the myth of Santa Claus.

Don't get me wrong- I have the holiday spirit. No, I am not the modern reincarnation of Scrooge. But I don't believe that Santa Claus exists. Logistically its impossible, but then again who could have imagined 6 billion people overpopulating this planet. I am not alone in my hypothesis, as many disillusioned youth mock the existance of that old geezer. My mom thinks he exists-very zealously- and I don't, so you can imagine all the arguments we have.

She always says: "No, Santa Claus is Real! He comes to all the good children and gives them presents." Soon, she follows this by asking: "What do you want for Christmas? Tell me a couple things." Such an obvious attempt at helping Santa-a.k.a. her-get a list of gifts. She's obviously getting me just 1 or 2 gifts, but she still asks for that list. I always try to point out the contradiction in her "belief". There are many more clear signs, including name tags, which happen to be written in her perfect A's and R's.

I cite the logistics, yet she dismisses them. I tell her that we don't have a chimney, but she says that he has keys to the house (Over the summer I was so bored, that I took a small stroll down to the Toronto Archives, and confirmed that only 3 people have the keys to the house). I even point out the gift receipt that is hanging from her handbag, with the bolded "EB Games" logo staring me in the face (I got NHL 07 last Christmas). Recently, I asked her why Santa dosen't help African children. She just smiled back (perhaps his apathy only extends to fortunate children).

I plan to prove her wrong, using the Reductio ad absurdum method:

Let us assume that Santa Claus exists.

We know that Santa starts delivering gifts on the morning (E.S.T) of the 24th on the other side of the world.

Therefore, Santa arrives in Toronto at about 3 a.m. in the morning.

I will attempt to stay awake and wait for his/her arrival. (Contributor's Note: This strategy has failed for the past 5 years because I fell asleep each time) I'll have some bitter coffee with me to keep me awake.

Then again, why do I even try? Do I not want a free gift?

If you've survived through this long post, feel free to share your Holiday stories in the comments section.