A Visit To The Mall of America: A Christmas Poem

‘Twas a few weeks before Christmas and all through the mall

The Liberal Elite were showing their gall.

Secular decorations were hung overhead;

Starbucks had no crosses, just cups that were red.

*

Clerks were scattered around this consumer maze;

No “Merry Christmas,” just “Happy Holidays;”

And my wife with her latte and me with my Coors

Brought our kids to our last hope in the center floor.

*

Around the Food Court stretched such a tremendous line;

I stood with my kids to give them a childhood like mine.

Of course, my kids were annoying little spawn,

But I ate my feelings and a Cinnabon.

*

After hours on my phone to ignore my runts,

We finally made it to the very front;

When my eyes did behold such a terrible sight!

I instantly Tweeted to Bart (comma) Breit.

*

At first, I was certain it was my Santa Claus,

But then the color of his skin did give me pause;

The shape was the same from his hat to his belly,

But I was oh-so-not-ready for this particular jelly.

*

His suit was red, his eyes did twinkle with light,

But his whiskers were the only thing that were white!

It was a Black man dressed in the traditional flair,

Dark as the guy who tried to give us all health care.

*

Seeing that rosy glow under ebony cheeks

Was so disconcerting, I just couldn’t speak;

But Anglo culture was in danger, I had no choice;

I summoned my entitlement and found my voice:

*

“This affront to Kris Kringle is an epic fail;

The character appeal depends on him being pale;

I will boycott this space, so will all my friends,

We’ll make the Mall of America great again!”

*

But to my surprise, my kids tugged on my sleeve;

It turns out they really did not want to leave;

They did not care that our traditions had been forsaken;

They still wanted their candy canes and their pictures taken.

*

I tried to explain to them that not All Santas Matter,

When the faux Claus responded to the clatter.

He approached with a smile and an outstretched hand

(Clearly a thug about to make some cruel demands.)

*

“Hello children, and may I say ho, ho, ho!

I really wish you didn’t have to go, go, go;

Just because I’m different, doesn’t mean that I’m wrong;

We can still have holiday treats and sing Christmas songs.”

*

“Santa is the spirit of joy, of giving and fun;

These qualities should be shared by everyone;

My face is every color, every shape, every creed;

The only things excluded are selfishness and greed;”

*

“For I am an idea that binds us all together;

We create such warmth in the coldest of weather;

Inspired by the birth of a Middle Eastern Jew.”

“No!” I proclaimed, “I’m sure Jesus was white, too.”

*

So I bravely stopped listening and turned away;

I pushed my family into our Honda sleigh,

Letting out one final shout as we drove out of sight,

“Merry Christmas to all…but mostly the alt-right!”

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C.J. Tuor is a frequent contributor to The Second City Network. He is a founding member of “Hitch*Cocktails” at The Annoyance Theater and “Clued In: An Improvised Murder Mystery” at Judy’s Beat Lounge.