The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

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Some of you out there who stay abreast of fake news coming in 24/7 probably already got the word. And the word isn’t good. Impeachment. I know, you’re tired of it. You’re sick to death of it. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news for those of you who finally turned off your computer, dropped out of Facebook, said you’d rather drink rat poison than listen to one more MSNBC or Fox News commentator drone on half an hour about it. You’d rather go and listen to the South End String Band than endure that.

Yeah, I know. But sometimes you can’t put your head in the sand. You can’t plug your ears. Sometimes a story is too Big, too important, too … life changing to ignore. They’re impeaching Santa Claus. I couldn’t believe it either. The jolly old guy was ratted out by Donder and Blitzen, probably pissed they had to work every Christmas when Santa could have contracted to Amazon Prime. Quid Pro Quo, they claimed. Santa wouldn’t know a quid from a quo, but that’s no defense. The elves had the lists of Naughty and Nice, but Santa had them sequestered before the subpoena came in. Might’ve saved his bacon except Mrs. Claus admitted that yes, the presents for the kids were conditional on their good behavior. Quid … pro … oh no!

I can tell you, the North Pole will be a litiginous place this season. Fa la la? I don’t think so. Next year, if I don’t miss my bet, even the naughty kids will get gifts. Nobody said this was a fair world. And if I were the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy, I’d be afraid. I’d be very afraid.

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