It has come to my attention that you know when I am sleeping. You know when I am awake. You know when I have been bad or good. I do not know how you obtained this information, but your methods may well be illegal, Santa. For the purpose of discussion here, though, I am ignoring that for now.
So, as I contemplate the likelihood of receiving coal in my stocking this year, I ask you, Santa: define good.
Define naughty and nice.
Ah… yes. If we are maintaining the conventional standards, I assume that means coal.
Well, then, let me embrace the coal.
Yes, I embrace the coal, the gritty black honesty of it.
I embrace coal, and earth, and wishes and passion. Really, this is all I need.
And then I ask you, Santa, what really matters in this season of hope and love?