Who’s Your Daddy? Now We Know!


December 25, 2029



Who’s Your Daddy? Now We Know!

Associated Press – Breaking news from America’s most respected journalist, Jerry Springer Jr., corroborated by America’s most popular news publication The National Enquirer.

On a recent television show entitled Who’s your Daddy? Jerry Springer Jr. used DNA evidence to confirm with 99.9% certainty that two midgets in a trench coat fathered twins with a horse . . . and also that beloved altruist Santa Clause is in fact the father of Jesus Christ.

Knowing once and for all who Jesus’ father really is should have impacting and almost endlessly reverberating ramifications throughout the globe, while the popular opinion seems to be that nobody really cares what two midgets and a horse do in the privacy of their own home.

We stopped the first guy we saw with glasses and a pocket protector (who we can only assume is a scientist) and interviewed him. What follows is the interview in its entirety:

Q: How do you feel about the fact that Santa Claus is Jesus Christ’s father?

A: Well Jesus’ real father is God, so this answers a lot of questions we’ve had about Santa Claus.

How can Santa deliver toys to all the children of the world in one night? Well, God can be everywhere at once.

How does Santa know how naughty or nice every child in the world is? God is all knowing.

How has Santa managed to deliver presents for as long as anybody can remember without dying? God is eternal.

How does Santa squeeze his fat ass down even the narrowest of chimneys despite being morbidly obese? God is all powerful.

Why didn’t God feel bad when he flooded the world and killed almost every living creature? Because his pet Reindeer can fly.

Q: Are you really a scientist, or are you just a nerd?

A: Who, me? I work at McDonalds. Who told you I was a scientist?

Q: Shut up nerd!

A: That’s not really a question . . . is this a legitimate interview?

Q: I said shut up nerd!


That is, of course, the end of the interview. How do we know? Because like all good interviews this one ended with an atomic wedgie. Lets not forget the cardinal rule of journalism, when the underwear is pulled up over the eyes, its time for goodbyes (Walter Cronkite taught me that).


We now bring you an in depth interview from the place with the most people likely to meet God in the near future . . . Florida.

Q: Hello old people! Tell us how you feel now that you’ve learned that God and Santa Clause are one in the same person?

A: The same way all old people feel all the time . . . angry!

Q: Why so angry?

A: Because Santa Clause lives in the North Pole! We were always led to believe that when we died we would go to Heaven and live with God in a beautiful place with white puffy clouds everywhere. Now we find out that those aren’t white puffy clouds at all, they’re just huge mounds of snow! I’m suppose to leave my condo in Florida where its 80 degrees every day for that! I don’t think so! My wife turns the heat on in August for Christ’s sake, how’s she suppose to live in the North Pole? If God thinks he’s going to get me to move up there after I die he’s got another thing coming. He can’t force me to go to the North Pole. I know my rights . . . I watch Matlock!

Q: Thank you old people, for making comments that nobody listened to anyway because nobody really cares what old people have to say.


God better watch out or this guy will come looking for him.


Speaking of the North Pole, even more recent news indicates that thousands of protestors have gathered in front of Santa Claus’s house in the North Pole. We now take you live to roving correspondent Shlomo Goldstein.

SG: Yes, thank you, I’m here at the North Pole, and its very cold.

PS: Yes, well, we could have figured that out ourselves Shlomo. Got any real news for us?

SG: There are thousands of protestors here . . . they’re not very organized though. People are shouting everything from stop making bad things happen to good people to why did my son get a lump of coal in his stocking? Its bedlam here.

PS: Ok, well you almost sounded like a real reporter there, but why don’t you get an actual interview with Santa Claus. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.

SG: Oh no not at all. How can that possibly be asking too much? I mean its not like mankind has been attempting to contact God unsuccessfully for over 5 millennia. Just send Shlomo to the end of the earth and give him a microphone, he should have no problem whatsoever getting the creator of the Universe to sit down with him for a one on one interview! I mean its not like God Almighty has anything better to do!

I knew I should have gone into dentistry like mother told me, I mean my God, these morons wont be happy until they have my blood.

PS: Shlomo our readers got all of that.

SG: Well fuck, if we’re going to piss them off we might as well go all the way! I mean there is absolutely no way on God’s green earth (or white earth as the case may be here in the North Pole) that I am going to get the Lord Himself to stop running the Universe and sit down with me to answer idiotic questions for the twenty or so people who actually read this rag . . . oh no wait a minute, actually God is standing right here and he looks happy to do an interview. My mistake.

(A one on one interview with God, this is a bit nerve-racking).

GOD: Don’t worry Shlomo, I promise it wont be as embarrassing as the time your mother caught you masturbating to the TV show Lavern & Shirley when you were 12. And please . . . call me Santa.

SG: Right, Santa . . . well thanks for the pep talk, I’m quite sure I’ll be fine now . . . no need for another one! Ummm, anyway, my paper wants me to ask you what the hot toy will be this coming Christmas, and if anything is likely to outsell the Tickle Me Elmo doll, but I think they’re all a bunch of morons, so I have to ask, what is the meaning of life?

GOD: 42.

SG: Yes, well, I suppose I walked right into that one, didn’t I? How about this conundrum . . . if you’re all powerful, can you create a stone so heavy that you yourself cannot lift it? Any insight there?

GOD: Hmmmm, that’s a tricky one. I suppose it proves that I don’t exist. Ha ha ha (laughing manically).

SG: Ok, lets move on as that topic seems to make you a little unstable. Here’s a real mystery we need solved. What’s the point of the Post Standard hiring a roving reporter? I mean this is suppose to be a newspaper article, not a TV show, right? It makes no sense.

GOD: Well Shlomo, I work in mysterious ways . . . and apparently so does the Post Standard.

SG: Right then. So here’s a question for you God . . . I mean Santa. The last time any of us saw you, you took the form of a burning bush. Now you’re a jolly old man with white hair, a beer gut, and rosy cheeks. What is your true form?

GOD: Oh the burning bush thing. You don’t have any pictures of me from back then do you? Its so embarrassing. My fashion sense was horrible . . . I cant believe I thought that looked cool. But then again we all dressed crazy in the 80’s, didn’t we.

SG: Are you saying that you spoke to Moses in the form of a burning bush in the 80’s because burning bushes were the cool style back then? I was around in the 80’s and I don’t remember that? I seem to remember big hair and people wearing gloves on only one hand.

GOD: You were around in 80 b.c.? I don’t think so. I refer to 80 b.c. as The 80’s. You seem to be thinking about the 1980’s.

SG: I suppose that makes sense. You’ve been around for a long time so you need to be a bit more specific about dates. You look fabulous for your age by the way.

GOD: Thanks, but I think I need to lose about 20 pounds.

SG: It couldn’t hurt.

Anyway they’re telling me to cut the interview short, so I’ll ask you only one last question. Which religion is right? Are the Jews really the chosen people?

GOD: The Jews? Aren’t they the same folks who killed my son about 2000 years ago?

SG: Well, this is awkward. I suppose now is a good time now to sign off. This is Shlomo Goldstien . . . I mean Shlomo Johnson, signing off from the North Pole.

PS: Thank you Shlomo for the interview, and for the religious tension at the end there . . . its not as if we don’t get enough of that already.

Santa Claus dealing with crowds of protesters at his North Pole workshop.


The Post Standard now takes you to a real scientist, as well as a nerd. Dr. Nerdy McNerdington.

NM: That’s not my name.

PS: Shut up and answer our questions, nerd!

NM: Well you asked me to validate the genetic link between Jesus Christ and Santa Claus for your readers, so I compiled visual data along with statistical compilations that show unequivocally . . .

PS: Shut up and get to the pictures! Our readers demand more pictures.

NM: As you can see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, so to speak. In this case the son is the spitting image of the father. Assuming you take into account that brown hair turns grey with age, and a middle age beer gut develops (probably from turning all that water into wine . . . then drinking it).

PS: There you have it folks. Incontrovertible proof that Santa Claus is the father of Jesus Christ. We here at the Post Standard are the first to break the story, so from now on remember . . . when you think of ruined Christmases think of the Post Standard.