"Santa Claus" by Paul McCarthy in Rotterdam

Source: Wikimedia Commons

You know the tiny little sparkly-winged angel you have sitting anally impaled on the top of your Christmas tree? She’s dressed all in white, isn’t she? So have you ever considered the sheer embarrassment if she happens to suffer her period sometime during Holy Week? One German university has. They’ve even considered what might happen should the blood-shedding angel happen to identify as being male.

Göttingen University—once home of the famous fairy-tale Brothers Grimm, now of a bunch of real-life fairies—has just held a helpful Christmas lecture, “Oh My Bloody Mess: Trans and Non-Binary People Bleed Too.” This was led by a “gay trans man” (I think that means a heterosexual female, who fancies men, pretending to be a homosexual male, who also fancies men—i.e., a straight woman) named Alexander Hahne.

Hahne, a “somatic counselor, sexological bodyworker, dancer and pleasure activist,” promised to provide some seriously “bloody insights” into the family-friendly festive world of “menstruating trans and non-binary people,” after which questions were “very welcome.” Not the kind of questions I’d be asking.

Once the lecture was over, students in attendance were invited to engage in a kindergarten-like session of seasonal decoration-making—but not with glitter, glue, and colored craft paper. “Have you always wanted to hang a bloody tampon on your mom’s Christmas tree or make a beautiful butterfly decoration out of sanitary pads?” asked promo material. If so, “Then it’s your evening.”

And if you think sticking a tampon on a tree is bad, wait until you see what the queers have now hung on Santa Claus.

Baby, It’s Brown Inside
In the highly liberal Dutch city of Rotterdam stands a very queer statue of Santa Claus indeed. Popularly known as “The Buttplug Gnome,” it represents a dwarfish jet-black Santa holding a miniature misshapen Christmas tree…one so misshapen it clearly resembles an anal toy of some kind. With his other hand, he also rings a large black bell end.

Is this just a case of misguided public innuendo? Probably not, given the past record of the sculptor responsible.

Paul McCarthy is not a member of a cheap Beatles tribute band, but a Californian artist with an overriding obsession for buttplugs. As such, every Saint Nick he makes (and he makes many) would appear to actually be a Saint Dick instead.

Another such statue stands outside Oslo Hospital in Norway, right next to the Proctology Department. Following its unveiling, McCarthy explained how he first became fascinated with buttplugs when he received one as a (Christmas?) gift in 1972. He stood this “next to a little goblin on my desk,” the juxtaposition providing inspiration for his statues.

An alternative account has it that McCarthy found a buttplug mysteriously sitting on a chair one day, perhaps placed there by a homosexual poltergeist or brownie, then glued it firmly in place like one of Marcel Duchamp’s old Surrealist-Dadaist “ready-mades,” before exhibiting this under the utilitarian title Chair With Butt Plug.

Santa Claus Is Bumming a Clown
McCarthy (who isn’t actually gay) considers himself more of a “clown” than an artist, many of his best-known works being performance pieces like Hold an Apple in Your Armpit, in which he did just that, or Class Fool, where he threw himself around a ketchup-splattered classroom until he vomited, before dropping his trousers and ramming a Barbie doll up his rectum. In the measured words of Wikipedia, “The piece ended when the audience could no longer stand to watch his performance.”

Equally fascinated by what emerges from anuses as by what can be inserted into them, many of McCarthy’s pieces center upon fecal matter, like his 2008 Complex Shit, a giant blow-up turd that was blown away by strong winds in Switzerland one night, leading to headlines like “Is It a Turd or a Plane?” Or was it just Santa’s new big brown gay-sleigh?

McCarthy has been drawing pictures of Santa whilst high on drugs since the 1970s, considering Father Christmas a totemic figure “ripe for satire as a quasi-religious, god-like bastion of life under capitalism.” As such, the arty-fartist enjoys cosplaying as a presumably gay Saint Nick himself, combining his main manias of poo, bumplugs, chocolate, and Christmastime.

In routines with names like Santa Chocolate Shop, McCarthy plays a genuinely Bad Santa wandering around with chocolate/shit smeared over his red-gone-brown costume. His 2014 piece Chocolate Factory created a fully functioning production line spewing out chocolate Santas and buttplugs, operated by elves in blond wigs, hoping to create “an atmosphere of delirium.”

Some skeptics think McCarthy is only creating an atmosphere of moral corruption. In 2014, he erected an “ambiguous Christmas tree”—i.e., a huge, 24-meter green buttplug—in central Paris. McCarthy claimed it was just a verdant spatial abstraction, but locals disagreed, toppling the thing in disgust, before one man “punched him three times in the face, yelling that he was not French and that his work had no place” there.

Others complained about desecration of the “sacred symbol of the Christmas tree.” More aesthetically advanced Parisian officials dismissed such primitive protests, explaining the inflatable sculpture had “enough ambiguity not to confuse the children” of the city.

We Three Queens of Orient Are
If you actively want to confuse your kids, various alternative queer Christmas options are now available. Just send them off to the aptly named “Santa Camp,” where they can meet an obese “Trans Santa” who asks children their pronouns before he/she asks them their names. Strangely, the presents they/them ask for upon Santa Fey’s knee are all variants upon a theme: chest binders, courage to come out as perverts to their parents on Christmas morning, that kind of thing.

I remember as a child one classmate fibbing that his father had punched him in the face after he had requested a Game Boy for Christmas; supposedly, his dad thought he was asking for a “Gay Boy.” Trans Santa (real name Levi Truax) would have given the lad a big sloppy rainbow kiss. He may also have handed him out an Xmas jumper reading “He knows when you aren’t sleeping, and he knows when you aren’t woke.”

According to a write-up of the whole Santa Camp experience, once the confused teens are finished, they leap off Trans Santa’s lap and “pump their left fist in triumph.” At least I hope that’s what they’re doing…

While Shepherds Touch Their Cocks by Night
Christmas is a time for giving, and if you want to be a Secret Santa for a trans kid yourself, head to transanta.com, which matches up needy trans people with potential donors at Christmastime who, instead of gifting food and coins to the homeless, would much prefer to contribute “gender affirming clothes” and “cool accessories” to grasping deviants—or engage in generous acts of “investing in trans survival” as the transatanists themselves put it.

One particularly tragic case was Alex, 24, from California, a single parent who “experienced gender dysphoria during their pregnancy,” presumably because she thinks she’s a man, and men don’t get pregnant.

What special gift did s/he want? A “bicycle to make transportation back to work a lot easier.” Just hop on the bus with your baby, love, they do mother-and-child discounts, you know.

If you would like to help Tiny Tim transition into Tiny Tina (or even a Christmas Carol?) this year, why not head online yourself, give him a big fat goose, and tell him where to stuff it?

Bum All Ye Faithful
Those parents whose offspring are more into musical theater could agitate for a revival of The Santa Closet, a 2019 Off Broadway production about a gay Santa, a one-man show created by Jeffrey Solomon, of the Houses on the Moon Theater Company.

In this play, after a gender-fluid New York boy named Gary asks Santa for a doll, Rudolph the Lavender-Nosed Reindeer explains that:

“I’m very proud of everything we have achieved here in Christmas-Town. In the early seventies we broke the color line and opened up the workshop to elves of color. We put in access ramps throughout Santa’s workshop…. I’d been pushing for us to adopt a more relaxed attitude towards gender and do away with the so-called ‘Soldier for Jimmy, Dolly for Sue’ policy, this whole color-coded gender fascism—let’s break up the binary, man.”

Such reckless reindeer rhetoric soon leads to Santa being outed as a gay radical himself, who once participated in the Stonewall Riots.

The subsequent tabloid scandal leads Santa to fly away with his chosen long-term catamite Giovanni Geppetto, a distant descendant of Pinocchio, on his big pink sleigh, doubtless before then sitting wide open right on his wooden nose and yelling, “Lie to me, big boy!”

Cumming Down Your Chimney Tonight
Some pinkwashed dupes now speak of a gender-neutral “Santx,” truly putting the “X” in “Xmas,” whilst in 2020 a special beardless and androgynous yellow “Mx Claus” emoji was introduced as “a gender inclusive alternative” to either Santa or Mrs. Claus. Does s/he have a North Pole down south or not? Nobody knows.

The Norwegian Post Office even encourage their citizens to lick Gay Santa’s backside on their Christmas card stamps, running special TV adverts in 2021 showing Santa in an openly homosexual relationship, so as to advertise “the flexibility of our services” and celebrate fifty years since the legalization of same-sex sack-emptying over there.

Following an uproar over this ad, a U.K. opinion poll was commissioned, clearly showing how all this never-ending agitprop was having its intended effect. About 60 percent of over-60s thought it was not okay for Santa to be bent, whereas around 60 percent of 18- to 24-year-olds thought a Homo Santa was cool.

This was billed as kids thinking Santa was “too straight, white and male” for their tastes. Unfortunate, really, as Santa is a straight white male.

On the Twelfth Gay of Christmas, My True Love Gave to Me…AIDS
How to reverse this militant mind-warping? How about telling toddlers Father Christmas has AIDS? In 1991, a militant march of HIV-riddled Santas invaded Macy’s in New York after one of their number had been refused seasonal employment there lest he spread the plague on to knee-perching kids through his infected Kris Kringle, singing “Santa Claus has HIV, fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la!”

In 1985, the Dickensian-named pop star Tiny Tim released a far less HIV-positive novelty Christmas single, “Santa Claus Has Got the AIDS This Year,” with truly harrowing lyrics:

He won’t be yelling out, “Ho, ho, ho, ho!”
But he’ll be screaming out, “No, no, no, no!”
He’s lying sick in bed
Call the doctor there instead
Santa Claus has got the AIDS this year

Tiny Tim was obviously being a total Scrooge McFuck here, but fibbed his trolling was all just a reference to a special brand of medicinal chocolate bar, “AYDS,” marketed as an appetite suppressant. The product’s old “Go on the AYDS diet” argument took on a whole new meaning once the similar-sounding disease grew famous in the ’80s, leading to the snack being discontinued, the very same problem that today faces once-popular online tombola gambling site e-bola throughout West Africa.

At first, it was optimistically thought the AIDS epidemic would boost AYDS’ brand recognition and sales, because, as one company executive honestly said, “People who suffer from that disease are not the same people who are trying to lose weight,” the bum-bug already doing that for them for free anyway. Hence, Tim’s song was supposedly about fatty Santa having eaten so much yummy slimming chocolate he was lying in bed slowly shitting himself to death.

So, if you don’t want your own kids to embrace Queer Santa this December, pop online and play them Tiny Tim’s highly disturbing, but gayness-deglamorizing, Christmas carol. They’ll hate it. Poo-loving artist Paul McCarthy, however, will no doubt lap the whole thing up. Possibly literally.