Brace yourself, because I’m about to hit you with the hottest of hot takes: The Grinch did nothing wrong, and I can prove it.
The thought occurred to me while watching a Christmas parade that was little more than propaganda in motion. Santa rode past my kids on the back of a fire truck, waving to cheering crowds like he’d won a World Series or war or something. Behind him, the Grinch was in cuffs in the back of a police car, held as a warning to all who might threaten the power of the jolly guy in red. But really, what was the difference between the two? Outright evil, and not on the side you’d think. Santa is without question the bad guy of the holidays, and the facts of the case bare that out. And before you tell me that I’m taking all of this too seriously and that the Grinch and Santa aren’t even real, let me remind you that I literally saw both of them in person Saturday night. Do you think they were just some random people in costumes? Hardly. First responders don’t have time for that kind of nonsense. Unfortunately, they arrested the wrong person. I’m here to set the record straight.
The crimes of Santa G. Claus are too numerous to list in a single newsletter, but I’ll do my best to summarize them here. For starters, there’s the slave labor. Do you think Santa is paying his elves a living wage? The economics of his business model could never support that. His entire plan is to build toys 364 days a year and then give them all away in a single night. Where’s the profit? No income means no pay checks, and the elves are the ones who come up short. They don’t toil away because they love it. They do it because they have no other means to support themselves. If they don’t obey Santa’s every whim, they’ll starve or freeze to death. That’s why he located his operation at the North Pole. The environment itself is the prison. It’s like the Klingon penal colony in Star Trek VI. The ice and snow are the ultimate jailers, trapping inmates more effectively that barbed wire and armed guards ever could. The notion of happy little elves is nothing more than an imperialistic caricature designed to cover up Santa’s cruelty. Ho ho ho, indeed.
Then there’s the surveillance state Santa has established in every country in the world. When your iPhone spies on you, at least you have to opt in by clicking “I agree” to a binding wall of text you’ll never actually read. Santa doesn’t even bother with the illusion of consent. He gets to observe—and judge—your child whether you want him to or not. He sees you when you’re sleeping, and he knows when you’re awake. He knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake. That’s a threat if I ever heard one. Even the NSA doesn’t have that much information on your family. Any other private citizen would be arrested immediately if they tried to install cameras in everyone’s homes to observe their children, yet Santa somehow gets a free pass on it. The bribes he paid to judges and lawmakers must have truly been astronomical. That’s the kind of splurge you can afford when you never pay your workforce.
There’s also the animal cruelty to consider. Santa makes his reindeer pull an impossibly large load an unimaginable distance at impossible speeds. Why doesn’t he just buy a jet? Based on the scale of bribes he pays out, he could clearly afford it. Instead, he makes beasts of burden hall his considerable frame plus toys for all the children in the world from house to house on every continent on earth. All that stopping and starting can’t be good from the reindeer’s joints. And what do you think happens to them when they’re too old and beat up to keep pulling? Let’s just say there’s no retirement home for old reindeer. If you ever visit the North Pole, don’t eat Mrs. Claus’s venison stew.
All of that pales in comparison to Santa’s most egregious crime: breaking and entering on a planet-wide scale. His superpower is squeezing down the chimney to illegally enter any house he wants. He doesn’t need permission or a warrant. He goes where he wants when he wants to enforce his own brand of vigilante justice, and on children no less. Depositing coal in the stockings of bad kids is the ultimate passive aggressive power move. If you’re lucky, that’s all he’ll do to your family. Once he’s inside, he might leave presents, but he could also take milk and cookies—and whatever else his greedy heart desires. I can’t prove it, but I suspect that’s where Santa really gets his money. If you’ve ever noticed your wallet feeling suspiciously light after the holidays, now you know why. His whole gift giving routine is cover for mass burglary. What other explanation could there be for how he funds his lifestyle? If you said “magic,” you just played yourself. Try using that excuse to explain accounting abnormalities the next time you get audited by the IRS. It won’t go over well. Santa only works one night a year, and he allegedly spends it giving away billions of dollars in merchandise for free. He definitely has another source of income, and it’s every unsuspecting parent in the world.
So how is the Grinch better? It isn’t hard to be. Everyone less malevolent than Stalin has committed fewer crimes than Santa. But the Grinch isn’t just the lesser of two evils. He’s an outright hero for attempting to stop Santa’s worldwide crime spree. If you’ve read Dr. Seuss’s seminal but highly biased biographical work, The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, you know the Grinch’s main objection to the holiday was the noise. The toys Santa gave out were so loud that the Grinch could hear them miles away on top of a mountain. Think about what it must have sounded like inside the Whos’ houses. Those poor parents. They were robbed by Santa, and then they suffered permanent hearing damage. It sometimes bothers me that my kids are so loud that you can hear them outside my house. But I’ve never had someone on a nearby peak complain about them. The volume Santa’s toys put out must have rivaled rock concerts and atom bombs. Look at the pictures in the book. Santa was giving out multi-trombone contraptions on wheels. That’s not the kind of thing where you can take out the batteries and tell your kids it broke. The sound comes from lung power, of which kids have an infinite amount. How could Santa possibly think giving that out was a good idea? Because he’s a monster, that’s why. Thank goodness the Grinch had the courage to stand up and stop him.
Did the Grinch also break and enter? Yes, but he should have been shielded by Good Samaritan laws. Sometimes you have to commit a misdemeanor to stop a felony. The Grinch knew the only way to spare the innocent townsfolk from Santa’s wrath was to remove not just his maliciously harmful presents, but also all signs of his presence. That included Christmas decorations. Lighting up a tree was an open invitation for the red menace to come back. The Grinch had to show him that he wasn’t welcome there any more. He nearly pulled it off, too. The only thing the Grinch did wrong was have second thoughts on carrying out his plan. He was on the cusp of greatness when he reached the top of Mount Crumpit with a load of the world’s most obnoxious toys. It would have only taken one small push to spare the moms and dads of Whoville from noise-induced migraines for years to come. Instead, he unexpectedly faltered at the worst possible moment. And what did that get him? The book will tell you he got a place of honor at the Christmas feast carving the roast beast, but I know better. I saw him in the back of that police car. The Man was going to throw the book at him. The only feast he’d be having would be bread and water with maybe a little wine made in a prison toilet. That’s what he gets for turning himself in. Never go in voluntarily. Make them drag you to the station, and when they do, lawyer up.
Let’s stop here to marvel at the fact that the Grinch attempted his heroic feat to save Christmas from Santa with a heart that was three sizes too small. Imagine doing that much cardio with impaired blood flow. He went down the chimney of every house in an entire city—without magic powers. I dare say I’d be spent after climbing up and down one chimney in a single night, yet the Grinch did it hundreds of times. Given his limited ability to pump red blood cells carrying life-preserving oxygen, he should have collapsed. Nevertheless, he persisted, all while carrying the heavy load of all the menacing Christmas gifts he removed from Who homes. The effort was so taxing that his heart swelled to three times its starting size. That’s not poetic license; it’s a serious medical condition. He should have died. The dude nearly gave his life to save a town that didn’t like or appreciate him. Why do you think he was isolated on a mountain by himself? Weird how the only person exiled to live alone on a frozen peak was also the only one who looked noticeably different than everyone else. All the “normal” Whos got to live in the village, while the one furry green guy was banished to a cave. You know, because he wanted to be there. Racist much?
I attribute the Grinch’s last-minute change of heart not to a true moral conversion to Santa-ism, but due to his failing body altering the flow of blood to his brain. When he reached the top of Mount Crumpit, with the sleigh full of liberated goods teetering over the precipice, the guy was staying alive by sheer adrenaline. The textual evidence bears that out. How else can you interpret the line “...the Grinch found the strength of ten Grinches, plus two!” His body was going through extreme changes. He went from not enough oxygenated blood to entirely too much as his heart swelled. He entered full-blown fight-or-flight mode with super-physiological determination as his body did whatever it could to survive. In that confused, manic state, it’s not surprising that the Grinch accidentally pulled the sleigh backwards rather than pushing it off the cliff. The rest is history.
Or is it? Dr. Seuss got it very wrong at the end of his book of lies. Before the Grinch tragically returned to Whoville with all the deadly noise-making devices he nearly destroyed, all the citizens gathered in the town square, hand-in-hand. They didn’t cry or lament. Nay, they sang. They weren’t overcome with Christmas spirit; they were overwhelmed with relief. Their hearts were filled with joy at being spared the auditory assault Christmas morning would have otherwise unleashed. Instead, they had a crisp, quiet moment when they could hear their own thoughts. As one, they raised their voices in jubilation. The Grinch was victorious. Then, tragically, his heart swelled, his brain got confused, and the dangerous contraband came sliding back. But all wasn’t lost.
On the final page of Dr. Seuss’s tome of blatant propaganda, the Whos aren’t using all the terrible noise-making devices. They’re sitting down for a quiet dinner. Even though the Grinch lost the battle, he won the war. He taught the town that they didn’t have to submit to the cruel despot known as Santa. Although it’s impossible to say for certain since the book conveniently cuts off there, I bet the Whos never even took those noisy toys out of the Grinch’s bag. They probably had a massive, celebratory bonfire where they destroyed those literal instruments of terror once and for all. And yet the hero who made all this possible was paraded around town in the back of a police car like some kind of deviant Saturday night. Shame on you, organizers of the Christmas parade. The Grinch deserves to be celebrated, not reviled. This isn’t my hill to die on; it’s my Mount Crumpit, and I ascend it knowing full well the uphill battle I face. But if the Grinch could do it with his undersized—and later oversized—heart, then I can do it with my normal sized one. Three cheers to the Grinch, the true hero of Christmas. And jeers to Santa, the monster of December. May his reign of terror finally come to an end.
Anyway, that’s all I’ve got for now. Catch you next time.
James
The Grinch Did Nothing Wrong