Archive for the ‘Holidays’ Category

The least popular theories on the true nature of Santa Claus.

Sunday, December 25th, 2016

xmas_xingSanta. How can be? How does he do it? How can one ordinary man deliver millions of presents in a single night?! It can’t be done, despite weak, tacked-on, magical explanations like flying reindeer, bottomless sacks, and the ability to whoosh up chimneys by laying a finger aside of one’s nose. Impossible. Unless… there is something deeper going on. Something that can’t be explained by the obvious, but that CAN be explained by a crazy, hair-brained theory we just came up with! So fire up your social media accounts, and start fakenewsing your friends, family, and coworkers IMMEDIATELY.

Firstly, why so many Santas? There’s folks dressed up like Santa everywhere. Getting stuck in chimneys, filling the local throne at the mall, hiding behind bushes at the park, getting arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct. Can a mere myth really inspire that level of disorganized, spontaneous imitation? Of course not. Being a Santa is no mere hobby, funtime, or seasonal income for our plus-sized bearded elders.


santa_clubIt’s a cult. A well-organized, fiercely-dedicated, intensely secret cult with rigid rules on appearance and behavior. Also, it’s like that movie Fight Club, only without quite as much beating each other bloody with fists. Members must take a solemn vow of Santitudity. They don’t only dress as Santa (called “taking the red”), grow a beard, and delight/terrify children. They not only swear to carry the torch of Christmas-itude, and to never deny the true existence of Santa. No, they actually must BECOME Santa. They undergo a drug-fueled initiation rite designed to help them believe that they, in fact, ARE Santa. Women are not explicitly excluded, but typically have trouble with the a beard-growing requirement. Beware, though. Once in, never try to get out. Apostates are secretly murdered and made to look like accidents. Don’t spill the beans, either. Those who attempt to reveal the cult’s existence are blacklisted and never get a good Christmas present again, forced into a sad existence of ugly sweaters, boring ties, fake-smelling bath sets, corporate coffee mugs, and a never ending array of socks and underwear, socks and underwear, SOCKS AND UNDERWEAR. And also sometimes murdered, just for variety.

Now, how can Santa Claus appear in different places at the same time? How can he be leading a small town parade whilst simultaneously ringing a bell in front of the Wal-Mart AND absorbing urine from terrified toddlers at the local mall? Most parents cross this horrible, faith-shaking, narrow bridge of faith by explaining the doppelgangers away as “helpers” or, that sure, THAT guy is just some dude in a cheap Santa suit, but there’s still a REAL Santa at the North Pole doing the REAL work of Christmas, while these chumps put on a dog and pony show for hicks like you.


But what if that’s not the case? What if … THEY ARE ALL SANTA? If Santa has powers beyond those of any mortal, why should we expect him to BE a mortal?! Why should we expect him to be like a human at all?! All the Santas are one. ALL THE SANTAS ARE ONE. Santa is a gestalt creature. He ONE entity with many many near identical bodies. Only a labor force in the thousands could pull off what Santa does in one night. So, what IS Santa?! Creepy, for one.


This leads us to our next theory. If Santa Claus cannot possibly be human, what can he then be? An alien? Now you’re just being ridiculous. The cabal of international bankers and Bilderberg Gnomes controlled by the Committee on Foreign Relations would unleash their army of blue helmets and black helicopters so fast, even your fluoridated-water dulled senses would register surprise as the North Pole was carpet-bombed back to the Triassic.

santa_eyeNo, there’s a better explanation. What we humans call “Santa Claus” is merely the intrusion into our three dimensions of an extradimensional creature that exists outside of time and space as we know it. Just as a sphere crossing a two dimensional plane appears as a growing and shrinking circle, the intersection of this creature with our plane just happens to look like a large human in a red suit with a white beard. Since this… this… this… THING is not subject to our laws of physics, existing outside of our universe, it is a simple matter for it to reach into closed rooms, locked houses, and deliver presents to millions simultaneously. The more terrifying aspect is why it would chose to do so. We cannot impute human motives on such an unearthly creature that isn’t even made of matter as we know it, but an agglomeration of Planck-length one-dimensional vibrating strings in an eleven dimensional superuniverse. Even more terrifying is that we have misinterpreted the situation by assuming this entity even HAS motives. It does not want to make us happy, spy on us, or lull us into a false sense of security and then eat our souls. No, the annual appearance of “Santa” is merely the rhythmic equivalent of its heart beating, lungs breathing, or blood flowing. Or pooping. We merely choose to interpret this inexplicable phenomenon as a kindly old dude chucking presents from a magic flying 18th century equivalent of an SUV. We must instead capture, analyze, and dissect these “fingers” of the greater creature that we might learn how it operates. Then we can learn how to heal the dimensional rifts and weakened time/space continuum that has allowed these apparitions to penetrate our world and torment us annually. The true celebration can only come when our scientists forever eliminate Santa from reality.

But where science fails us, religion picks up the ball and runs with it, spikes it in the end zone, does a ref-defying taunty dance, and demands everyone agree it’s particular taunty dance is the one true taunty dance and there can be no others. Some stripes in the Christian rainbow don’t like Santa; seeing him as some kind of interloper in what should be Jesus’s exclusive turf. I mean, whose birthday is it? What’s the reason for the season? It must be aggravating. Also, Santa is an anagram of… SATAN! And as we all know, fun letter swapping games for bored vaguely literate people are always a font of uncorrupted religious truth forever. This final theory on the true nature of Santa Claus is for them:
Santa Claus isn’t against Jesus Christ. Santa Claus IS Jesus Christ. After crucifixion, returning from the dead, visiting friends and family, going on tour in the Americas, founding a bloodline in France, and generally having the most active posthumous career known to mankind, Jesus retired. He gained weight, turned gray, got bored, and chafed at the shackles of his own fame. He realized anything he then did as himself would be soon be overrun with his fans and supporters regardless of its merit. So, Jesus adopted a pseudonym, a spiffy new outfit, and reinvented himself. Yet, he remained true to two of his main interests. Jesus was a carpenter. Jesus loves the little children. So he uses his carpentry powers to make them toys.  He uses his Son of God powers to monitor and track every child in the world’s good/evil levels, pick the most appropriate toy for each, make the toys, and get them all delivered all around the world on a single night. Jesus Santa is so selflessly awesome, that on HIS birthday, he gives YOU a present! You don’t even have to go pick it up! He delivers!

It’s the only explanation that explains everything, AND puts the Christ back in Christmas.


You’re welcome.

How Not To Celebrate 9/11.

Wednesday, September 11th, 2013

Party fouls: let’s avoid them this year on September 11th. The first and most vital element in avoiding a 9/11 anniversary observance faux pas is: don’t CELEBRATE it. Happy holidays you celebrate, tragic anniversaries you OBSERVE. Americans are terrible at observing the observeful holidays; we’re all about celebrating the celebrateful holidays; stores put up Christmas stuff the same week as Halloween stuff. New Year’s Eve? PARTY! Christmas! PRESENTS! But Labor Day? “Outta my way, I gotta cram in one more summer beach trip.” Memorial Day! “Um, tire sale?” Arbor Day! “Is that still a thing?”

Here are some helpful tips to help you not look like an insensitive, subhuman douchebag of raging proportions on the anniversary of 9/11.

Terms to avoid. Please avoid saying or writing any of the following words, phrases, or memes either directly before or directly after the phrase “9/11.”

  • Happy
  • Party
  • Booyah
  • Word up
  • FTW
  • Epic Fail
  • LOL
  • Facepalm
  • Conspiracy

No Piñatas. Period. It doesn’t matter how tasteful your piñata is, or whether you got one at the store or spent hours making it yourself. It doesn’t matter if it’s filled with delicious candy or sensitive haikus about each of the nearly 3,000 victims. It doesn’t matter if it’s even one of Saddam, Bin Laden, or Bush; the whole concept of whacking things with sticks to smash them open and shove your way to greedily snatch up whatever is spilling out is antithetical to a 9/11 anniversary, metaphorically, and socially.

No Cake.

The Cakes of 9/11

Again, this goes back to the whole celebrating versus observing thing. Cake is too delicious, too fun, too light-hearted, no matter what flavor, what shape, how it’s decorated, or what’s written on it in sweet, sweet, can I lick the beater please please please, frosting. Really, all sweets should be avoided: candy, cookies, brownies, blondies, puddings, mousses, flans, probably Jello, ice cream, sundaes, sherbets, Italian ices, frozen novelties, and especially pies of any kind, except shepherd’s and pot. Kale is the most appropriate food to eat for a 9/11 observance. It’s really good for you, you can work it into many dishes, and it tastes gawdawful. It’s the new spinach! Really, any vegetable, especially raw, is well-suited to your 9/11 observance gathering.

No Two Minutes Hate. Try to avoid holding an Orwellian, 1984-style Two Minutes Hate. Again, it doesn’t matter if it’s for Saddam, Bin Laden, Bush, your turban-wearing neighbor, anybody. It’s tacky.

No Drinking Games. We’re not saying you can’t have an alcoholic beverage on a 9/11 anniversary. This is America, after all, and if we can’t drink, then the terrorists will have won. We’re not even saying drink responsibly. We can’t think of any other event about which we’d like to drink until we feel better, until we forget, until we can’t feel feelings anymore. But what you should not do is hold drinking games, where everyone downs a shot or Jello shooter (and didn’t we just tell you no Jello?) after hearing a selected word like “tragedy” on TV. Partly because it’s bad taste, partly because you’ll die of alcohol poisoning.

No Tire Sales. Or mattress sales. Nothing says “disrespected American holiday” like a themed tire and/or mattress sale. We know sales are sluggish and could use a shot in the arm, and everybody needs tires and mattresses at some point, and we need to patriotically purchase American-made tires and mattresses to support the American tire-and-mattress industry (NYSE: TAMI), but a 9/11 anniversary is not the time to do it. And if you are a tire or mattress vendor, please for the love of God, especially do not dress up in any kind of costume and make a homemade TV commercial for your 9/11 tire/mattress sale. Please, please, please.

Do Not Wonder What’s the Big Deal. Do not do this. At least not out loud. You’re young, or foreign, and the rest of us would all just superduper appreciate it if you would kindly shut the F up until we’re all dead, and THEN you can safely bitch about what a stupid day this is and who cares even, and attend tire sales in peace. Just like Grandpa and the Kennedy assassination.

Jebus, all these “don’ts” we hear you cry. What’s actually allowed?! Well, here’s one: Do… give it time! In time, 9/11 will be safely absorbed into history and American will be able to breeze right by this holiday, drinking, eating, hating, whoring, and buying all the tires and mattresses at steep discounts we can stand. Look at Presidents’ Day, Labor Day, Memorial Day, and I would say Arbor Day, but that can’t still be a thing, can it? All these holidays/observances have been safely commuted from meaningful, heartfelt expressions of national sentiment (okay, President’s Day was never meaningful), into lame, random days off from our soul-crushing jobs. The system works. Time passes, wounds heal. And 9/11 will never mean to our children and grandchildren what it means to us. And that’s the way it should be.


9/11 will never mean the same to me as it does to you

Christmas Comedy

Wednesday, December 12th, 2012

Gabba Gabba Ho!
In celebration of the birth of our Lord, Santa Christ, we share with you the spirit of the season! HA HA! Now we don’t have to get you a real present! Chump! Hey, it was either this or macrame. You’re lucky you’re not getting an ashtray made out of Play-Doh, like Mom. Enjoy with our compliments-

Love, The Van Gogh-Goghs

new Feelin’ Scrooge-y? Den fizzuck dat Chriznismas Schnizzle and get your Grinch on: How to Ruin Christmas!

new Tis the season! For cheap nostalgia of Christmases past! Our Most Memorable Presents!

* Bring on the booze! Ah, sweet delicious booze… What better way to consume it than by playing our Holiday TV Specials Drinking Games!

* Want to see Santa on Christmas morning? Leave him a batch of our special Santa Claus Knockout Cookies!

* Not sure if you’re getting coal or presents this year? Sounds like you better take our Naughty or Nice Quiz!

* How to Prevent a Santa Invasion

* Jason’s Christmas Memories He Never Really Had

* What Christmas Means to Mythical Creatures

* Double-Ho-Seven

Christmas Music Gets a Bad Rap

Sunday, December 13th, 2009

Crew X album cover
Novelty songs are always hit or miss, but Christmas is a time of especially egregious examples of eccentric tunesmithery. Here’s a couple of raptastic, craptastic examples from 1992 by “Crew X” with all the best beats a cheap drum machine can make, and hitting all of your fave public domain rave-ups.
Hark! The Herald Angels Sing
Twelve Days Of Christmas

Happy Jewish New Year

Friday, September 18th, 2009

It’s Rosh Hashanah! Happy Jewish New Year!!! To all the members o’ the tribe, Happy 5770! In honor of this high holiday, we have the 1984 track “The Shofar That Almost Missed Rosh Hashanah” as read by a pixie on helium.  Listen and delight as plucky Jewish schoolkid Barbara goes up against a sticky-fingered goy with a case of shofar envy! Show and tell was never so full of intrigue.

From a set of 45 rpm records by Graded Press; Bible Festivals: Today and Long Ago.

Download (6:09 / 10.9 MB)

The fine print: All downloads are provided for entertainment purposes only. VGG.COM not responsible for any religious epiphanies from listening to mp3s.

Happy Bastille Day!

Tuesday, July 14th, 2009

Today’s post is to help celebrate Bastille Day, the day of the French Revolution when the French triumphantly stormed the hated prison, and proudly emptied it of its forgers, lunatics, and the Marquis deSade. And what Frenchman speaks to us so loudly across history but that famous French mime, the Ur-mime Marcel Marceau (1923-2007). And yet mime was only one of his many talents. You know, like how David Hasselhoff thinks he can sing, or have a non-Knight Rider-related career. Welp, Marceau also saw himself as a visual artist. Below is a bizarre, epic, apocalyptic drawing he did that appeared in a program for one of his shows in 1973. Despite a certain “I am 12 years old” quality to the drawing, it appears to have been done in 1961, when Marceau was about 38. Hmm.

Also, sorry ’bout the rusty staples in the center.

click to embiggen
click to embiggen

Here’s the left and right pages in extry-huge format so you can really appreciate the fine detail.

Marcel Marceau Apocalypse left Marcel Marceau Apocalypse right

(click pix to embiggen)

Allow us to try to narrate Marceau’s dark vision, his “Marceaucalypse,” if you will: As a massive earthquake causes mighty skyscrapers to lean and teeter dangerously and a tornado and fires ravage the city, and a large ocean liner sinks in the background, the terrified populace plunge to their certain deaths from the buildings or rush into the streets where they are attacked by bats and escaped zoo, or quite possibly circus, animals. Under a sky filled with strange planets, angry and helpless soldiers futilely throng the streets colliding with impromptu religious parades of every stripe, where citizens turn to a nonexistent God to save them, moments before they stumble into a river of hungry crocodiles. While silent movie star Charlie Chaplin cavorts in the crowd, the twin angels of comedian Harpo Marx and Bip (Marcel’s everyman mime character) begin their happy ascension to heaven under the gaze of several large, floating, disembodied eyes with great lashes. Also, there’s an owl.


Keep the Yule Cats Burning…

Wednesday, December 17th, 2008


Oh look honey, it’s another Christmas card in the mail, I’ll just open it, aw, it has kittens on … OH GOD NO THE KITTENS ARE ON FIRE! AAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! AAAAAHHH!!! AHH! AH!

Yule cats, fire cats!

 (click to enlarge)


Wait a minute- the kittens aren’t on fire- look how peacefully they stare at my skull as they emanate from the flames– Oh Sweet Santa- they aren’t on fire, they ARE fire!!! ARGH! DEVIL MUTANT FIRE CATS!!! KILL IT! KILL IT WITH FIRE… oh wait, that won’t work. KILL IT WITH…, what, water? Sure, water… I guess. Hmmm. What else can you kill things with that sounds cool when you yell it out?   A stick? Maybe. A gun? No. Knife? No. Aha! SCIENCE! KILL IT WITH SCIENCE! KILL IT WITH SCIENCE!!!

Happy Fourth of July! Now, sing along with me…

Wednesday, July 2nd, 2008

Druncle Sam!

Aw man, don’t you hate it when you have a back yard Fourth of July cookout, and you have that one uncle who you didn’t want to invite, but had to, and you didn’t think he’d come anyway, but he did, and then you thought “well, as long as he doesn’t get drunk,” but then he does, and then you think, “please don’t sing, please don’t sing, please don’t sing,” and sure enough he starts singing, and then, AND THEN he then tries to drunkenly cajole everyone ELSE into singing with him, and you think things can’t possibly get any worse BUT THEN YOUR DRUNKEN UNCLE PULLS OUT SONGBOOKS, and starts handing them out, you know, so EVERYONE can SING ALONG.

Well that’s what’s obviously happened on the cover of this beer company promotional songbook, only the uncle is… UNCLE SAM. And your back yard? It’s AMERICA. (Did we blow your mind yet?)

Man, Druncle Sam is sure feeling it up there, isn’t he? He is right at the supreme moment of drunkeness.

Did we mention your uncle owns HIS OWN BATON? You know, the better to conduct his not-so-spontaneous singalongs.

Happy Easter!

Saturday, March 22nd, 2008

Because if there’s one thing Jesus understands, it’s how hard it is to get out of bed on the Sunday after Good Friday. Am I right, people? Go ahead, sleep in. How much different does the sun look at 6am than 10am? Besides, it’s Easter it’s not like there are gonna be presents or anything. Maybe some candy and eggs, but nothing cool like a racing set or a Barbie.

Come on, Internet, be our Valentine! So lose the pants!

Wednesday, February 13th, 2008

Hey! It’s Valentine’s time! And in the current VGG tradition of barely updating this site with old content, ghost-ship style, here’s another bit of holiday fun from a former day of what we assumed was glory.

Valentine Cards, of the disappointing virtual variety, suitable for sending to an alleged sweetie as your way of saying, “I barely care about this holiday– for eternity, my love, eternity!”