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(A paraphrase of a wretched piece of verse that, itself, only exists in paraphrased form:)

"You've made Santa's naughty list this year,
Don't deny it, here's the scoop:
He's run plum out of all his coal,
So instead, here's snowman poop!!!!!!!!!"

This four-line parcel of alleged yuletide mirth, or something resembling it but even worse than this facsimile I cooked up (the only essential elements are simple rhyme scheme, "coal," "scoop," "snowman poop," and multiple exclamation points), comes printed on a small piece of paper, usually coupled with some hideous block of clipart, and stapled to small plastic bags of miniature marshmallows. These bags are often given out as "treats" at Christmas parties or casual occasions by friends, family and coworkers. The poem is never funny more than one time. I have seen this tired premise used no fewer than four times this holiday season alone, and I don't attend many holiday functions. (Can you guess why?) I have never seen anyone actually eat the marshmallows from one of these bags.

Two points:
A. If I find out this is a first-hand example of the creation of folklore and tradition, my respect for the accumulated lore of the human race will be shot to hell.
B. Furthermore, a red-nosed reindeer is one thing, but if an animated television program centering around Frosty's feces attains classic status, I'm going to renounce my humanity and see if I can't move in with some woodsprites that live in my backyard. If they're not accepting borders, maybe the Grinch could use some help with the rent on his Mt. Crumpet abode.

Bah, humbug!

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