As your Santa, it is my right to run the North Pole exactly how I want to, and I have to say, it’s about time we made some changes to this dump. And believe me, there is no bigger problem than a lack of space to throw holiday ragers. Therefore, I am exercising my full authority to demolish this antiquated and boring workshop and build a beautiful ballroom.
To all of you losers getting your stockings in a twist, how could you not see this coming? I literally told you all I was going to remake the role of Santa. And time and time again, I have delivered on what I campaigned on. Promises kept, for those who celebrate.
Look, if you didn’t want me to bulldoze a piece of history and replace it with an awesome architectural marvel carved up by big hulking lumberjacks, well, then take that up with the forty-five rural citizens of the North Pole pissed off about the cost of reindeer meat. Because that’s what I’m all about—making things affordable. Which, by the way, not a single penny of North Pole money is being used to build this thing; it’s being paid for by Palantir, the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, and several billionaire narwhal friends of mine who prefer not to be named.
This was all part of a plan, folks. From day one, I said I was going to make the North Pole safe again. I deployed Igloo Clearance Elves to get those horrible bloodthirsty penguins off the floe, and they’re totally gone now, back at the South Pole where they belong. They’ll be happier there, even though some of them have been up here their whole lives. So now that I don’t have to fear an uprising, I will soon begin demolishing Mrs. Claus’s wing as well—no huge loss by the way, as she’s only been here for three days in the past year.
Also, why shouldn’t I have a ballroom to throw snowtastic parties in? I’m effing Santa Claus. I work my ass off all year, deciding who is nice and who I need to investigate, denigrate, and destroy. You should see the amazing things that other leaders like Krampus, Jack Frost, and Vladimir Putin get to build for themselves. Santa is like the biggest name of them all, so I should obviously have the biggest place, right?
Some of you have mentioned the massive bunker I’m building beneath the ballroom. Don’t worry about that, it’s there just in case of an emergency, like if I wanted to be Santa forever and someone lied and said I couldn’t be—fairy tales. And isn’t living in a fairy tale what being Santa is all about—just a complete and total fantasy where everyone pretends so as not to make me upset?
This is going to be truly an amazing ballroom, unlike anything the world has ever seen. You’ll be able to tell your grandkids that you were alive during the completion of this stunning ode to Santa. When they ask about the North Pole, you can, with tears in your eyes, show them a picture of it with pride!
