And to all...a Good Night?

It has long been the principal task of Rooked to tell the Truth and let the chips fall where they may. Or, at least, to tell like it like I suspect it could be.
So…in the interest of the Greater Good, I have decided to go out on the most precarious of limbs and to print, at long last, the Real Story of the Secular Christmas Legend.

WANTED:
Santa Claus. AKA: Saint Nicholas, Chris Cringle, Father Christmas.
For crimes against Humanity.



The Historical Research Staff here at Rooked has spent long hours in the stacks digging up all the available information on this once beloved and oft misrepresented character of song and story.
In the early years, his history is quite dim but faint rumblings of his travels can still be heard if one does but listen closely.
I suspect that, dating back into antiquity, this mysterious character studied long in the mystery schools of ancient Egypt and grew as an adept in the cult of Osiris and managed to find the key to living an unnaturally long life. He travelled extensively in the ancient world and was involved in many adventures and is probably responsible for many Biblical accounts of anomalous activities; most notably Ezekiel’s Wheel and, even more astonishing, that he stole the Ark of the Covenant as the prototype for his sleigh. And he probably played a not-so-insignificant role in the burgeoning legend of the Passover, since he seems to have developed an inordinate interest in children and moving about stealthily in the dead of night. I suspect he was abducting them for use in blood sacrifice ceremonies to Baal and various other golden calves of the day.
He next turned up in Turkey where he realized that abducting children in the night might be construed as morally reprehensible by most people so he figured out the greatest Public Relations campaign of all time and changed his Name to Saint Nicholas. He realized that by reinventing himself as a benevolent old giver of gifts he could probably abduct many more children for his nefarious purposes and protracted commercial ventures in the human slave trade. Besides, if he left gifts for most of the children and only took say…two or three, nobody would notice. And, if they did, well…at least they got a little something for their trouble.
Truly...A Monster.
It is here that we see the beginnings of the secular legend.
He drifted into relative obscurity for a while but eventually showed his face, so to speak, in the Carpathian Mountains where he was known as Christophe Bela Cringle and he was the “Prince” of a tribe of wandering gypsies who stole babies in the night and left coal for the peasants as a form of recompense. His traditional red ensemble put the color of blood into the minds of the people and this gave rise to many vampire legends and tales of the day. And, of course, led to the belief that coal was a sign of Evil or, at the very least, of someone having been not very nice at all.
Shedding the name “Bela,” he traveled once again and landed in the Germanic territories of Europe where up set up shop for many years to come. Here he masterminded the institution of the Thule Society and set himself up as Grand Master. He then went about his work all over Europe and, it is even rumored, had a hand in the start of the Templar Knights and the dreaded Priory of Zion. He was fervently dealing in the new market of the World Banking System and swiping children left and right and leaving only a faint trail of shoddy gifts in his wake. And his Legend grew through the years.
He became known as Father Christmas during this time and is even said to have had the power to stop war when the mood struck him and could calm opposing forces during the Yule season so he could go about his Dark Work unmolested by the Authorities.
He was safe and secure to build up his power and his holdings since nobody would ever suspect a kind old man who gave gifts to children and was rumored to not even exist at all.
He lurked on in the back of global consciousness for years, always in the shadows and only really drawing attention to himself once a year, just to keep the façade alive and the cover story running.
His fingerprints can surely be found on almost every major war and coup throughout the centuries and deep in the pockets of most of the crowned heads of the world. And, all the while, the children kept on disappearing. But, after all, the stockings were kept full and if a few kids got lost well…that was just he way of the world.
He later adopted the more fully Germanic name of Claus and used an anagram of Satan for his diabolical new act as he sat in on the secret creation of the Nazi regime. He was wise enough to recognize the advantage that the massive war and the Final Solution could have for him…so many refugees, who would notice if most of them vanished in the night? Some say that is was he himself who spirited Martin Bormann out of Berlin in the Last Days and flew him via sleigh, to Africa where the good Mr. Bormann carried on with Dr. Mengela’s experiments and always with a fresh supply of new victims.
It was only then, in the Modern Age, that various organizations got really interested in Mr. Claus. After all, why was he hiding at the North Pole? To avoid extradition? Probably. And why all the secrecy? Were his mythical “flying” reindeer really the remnants of the Peenemunde rocket experiments? The last vestiges of the Lost Ark?
What secrets was the Old Codger hiding so far north?
But the CIA, FBI and even the KGB couldn’t act. It would have been a nightmare of public opinion backlash. How could they go after Santa Claus? But they knew, through various illegal and legal wiretaps and surveillance activities, that he was almost certainly in league with the Black Hand, the Illuminati, the Yakuza and even the Illuminati in some strange way. As always…their hands were tied. Yes; the Jolly Old Elf was the mastermind of a global network of criminal enterprises the likes of which the world had never realized or seen. And there was precious little that anybody could do about it. The man was, for all intents and purposes, a myth…a shadow…a ghost.
And so, I contend, he remains to this day. And it’s high time that we all did something about it. He’s had a free hand to come and go as he likes for far too long now. And, tonight, as he mocks the Law of the Land and has cookies at your kitchen table to add insult to injury, just ask yourself, “How safe am I really?”

Only we can stop this madness now.