Those of us who spent our formative years in the eighties have a unique set of images etched indelibly into our collective psyches: the fall of the Berlin Wall, several most unfortunate trends in hair and bang styling, and those charming yet inexplicably odd Rankin-Bass holiday specials. When I find myself humming the chorus to that catchy ditty from brother misers Snow and Heat on a random March afternoon, it leads me to two startling conclusions. The first, obviously, is that I never have been, nor ever will be, cool. Secondly, as much as I love a man in a red fur suit, Santa is moody and prone to canceling Christmas when faced with the slightest insult. Take these instances:

Twas the Night Before Christmas: A mouse going through a bit of a commie pinko know-it-all phase (as mice are wont to have) writes Santa a letter on behalf of the town declaring their disbelief in Santa. Despite the pleas of bedridden children, the chagrined mouse community, a clockmaker, and the entire city council, Santa cancels Christmas.

The Year without a Santa Claus: Santa catches a mild upper respiratory infection and complains vaguely of “aches”, prompting him to cancel Christmas (again). After Mrs. Claus and Claus employees Jingle and Jangle take a perilous journey in order to prove to Santa that there are still believers out there, Santa only decides to reschedule Christmas after receiving a letter from a little girl.

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer: Santa plays no small part in Rudolph’s pariah status, and later cancels Christmas. Ok, fine, so he cancels Christmas due to a blizzard as opposed to, I don’t know, a yo’ mama joke made at his expense by a Peruvian ferret, but still – if Rudolph’s nose hadn’t been convenient at the time, who is to say the most famous reindeer of all wouldn’t still be pleading his case for a condo on the island of misfit toys?