Letter to President Obama #45 | Subject: Santa, Ghosts, That Stupid Dog That Laughs At You In Duck Hunt

Dear President Obama,

Each holiday has its own associated stories and tall tales and characters, and as Christmas just passed, I’ve been thinking about Santa and the elves, and other holidays too. When separated from their holiday context, some holiday stories don’t make a lot of sense. Some are even a little creepy. Santa Claus is a good example.

Santa Claus

I mean, consider Santa Claus. If you walked up to me and told me that an obese bearded man who lives at the North Pole on a bunch of pack-ice knows if I’ve been naughty or nice because he’s been watching me and is planning to sneak into my home via my chimney and then abscond with milk and some of my freshly baked goods, that’d be creepy.

But, if you were to add that he’s going to bring me a toy, that’s not creepy. That’s wonderful, wonderful news. The presents make all the difference. They make logic superfluous.

Like most kids, I loved Christmas, but I didn’t believe in Santa for very long; the jig was up when I was about 5 or 6. I still remember going to the kitchen table and calling my parents into the room, telling them that there was something I wanted to discuss. I sat with my hands folded, and like a miniature lawyer, I outlined my case. Santa visits every house, but there are far too many houses to visit in one night. More importantly, he visits every house, but the world is full of all sorts of poor people and they don’t seem to get any presents. If they did, the sleigh would have to be a lot bigger, and it’d be full of chickens and cows and sandwiches. I admitted that this might be possible to deliver in a very large boat of some sort, or perhaps a wagon train or caravan of some sort, but that wasn’t how the story went.

When I realized that my parents were Santa, it made me realize how kind my parents had been to me and my sister, as we weren’t rich, by any means. One of my favorite Christmas moments came soon thereafter; my parents asked me what I wanted for Christmas, and I told them a Nintendo, as I’d been trudging over to my friend Jeff’s house to play Nintendo, and specifically, my favorite game, Duck Hunt. My friends were partial to Mario Brothers and repeatedly told me that Duck Hunt was lame.

Back then, a Nintendo was expensive, about $100, and I knew we didn’t have a lot of money, so when my mom told me that we couldn’t afford it, I was disappointed and I told her that I understood. Well, on Christmas morning, there was a large rectangular box under the tree, and when I opened it up, I couldn’t believe it. Strangely, it was then that my parents informed me that I’d have to go to bed an hour earlier, at 8 instead of 9. This was a small price to pay, but I wondered why until one night when I was lying in bed and I could hear furtive whispering in the background. It was my parents.

Mom: Are they in bed?

Dad: Yeah, I put them to bed ten minutes ago.

Mom: Do you think they are asleep?

Dad: Yeah, OK. Turn the game on. Give me that controller, I want to be Mario.

Sure enough, my parents were playing the Nintendo, and through the crack in the door I could see my mom leaning with the controller while trying to avoid the goombahs and koopa troopas.

That was fine with me, as I got to play Duck Hunt as much as I wanted. I still like that game, and I don’t even like hunting. I also don’t like the Duck Hunt dog; you know, the one that jumps up after you miss and laughs at you despite your fruitless attempts to shoot it? What kind of hunting dog laughs at you if you miss? That’s like a seeing-eye dog chuckling as you tumble down the stairs at the mall.

The Tooth Fairy

While Santa was at least convincing for a short time, I never really believed in the tooth fairy. There wasn’t much of a back story there. So let me get this right: My tooth falls out, I put it under my pillow and some fairy comes and gives me some spare change for it?

That leaves a little too much to the imagination. What does he or she need them for? Does the tooth fairy simply collect teeth, like some people collect stamps? Weird. In retrospect, that sounds a little Ed Gein to me. I suppose an argument could be made that maybe other kids needed those baby teeth (babies?), so maybe it was a really gross form of recycling.

The whole tooth fairy thing also seemed to encourage violence. I remember many occasions when my sister and I, strapped for cash, discussed how we would split our haul the next morning after we punched a few teeth out of each other. My parents thought that we were always punching each other because we didn’t along, but they were wrong, we were simply good capitalists in it for the money.

The whole tooth fairy charade came crashing down after I lost a pair of teeth when I was five or so. I put them under my pillow and woke up the next morning, only to find my teeth and a bit of a bloodstain, which I thought was gross. OK, so the tooth fairy was late. So I slept a bit more. When I awoke, same thing. I tried to sleep a bit longer, and when I was just about to fall asleep I heard a jingle, jingle and felt my pillow being wrenched up while the teeth were yanked out. I opened my eyes to catch my mother with the change in one hand and the teeth in the other. Then she started laughing and couldn’t stop; this happens sometimes.

Halloween

Halloween is another holiday that I really enjoy, as there is candy involved. It is a holiday that can get rather strange at times, as you never know what you’ll get from your various neighbors. For instance, one lady on our block was a little bit loony. For instance, when her mailbox fell off, she tied it back on with a bra, and when her dryer broke, she hung up her clothes in her trees. On Halloween, instead of handing out candy, she gave us a choice, we could have a dime or a pencil. It always seemed like a trick question. I usually picked the dime, and then used the dime to buy a piece of candy from my sister.

Sadly, Halloween is sometimes considered a ‘bad’ holiday, as some people object to the inclusion of witches, ghosts and goblins and the general veneration of the “occult.” Personally, I think that the religious holiday on November 1, “All Souls Day” is far creepier, as it sounds a lot like a death metal band name. I don’t see the harm in Halloween, as I don’t believe in demons, witches or ghosts. (While I don’t believe in ghosts, I do believe in really, really white people. I’m one of them! I’m kind of like those snow hares that turn pure white in winter, except I stay that way all the time.)

I don’t really believe in Ouija boards either. Every time I play with one, I try to communicate with one of the Parker Brothers, or at least one of their board game representatives (e.g. the Monopoly guy) as they sell the Ouija board and it says Parker Brothers in big letters on the side. I figure, if I can’t get in contact with them, or at least supernatural customer service, then the game totally must not work.

Wow, this letter really got long! Well, as you can tell, I like holidays, and I sometimes talk a lot. My apologies for that. In any case, thanks for reading, and take care.

Brett Ortler

P.S. After a break, I'm back at the letters to President Obama. Here's the deal: I write him a random, zany letter, then I send it. Here's to hoping to getting a response. Read them all at this link: brettsletterstothepres.blogspot.com

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