You BETTER Watch Out!

Years ago, Ralph and I discovered we both owned that bound behemoth (nearly the same weight and dimensions as the stone tablet onto which the covenant had been hewn), the photo book, "Christmas in America." Further delight ensued when we flipped to the double-truck of an elderly couple displaying their collection of Santa Claus dolls. The santas ranged in size from elfin to milk can (all within the suspected parameters of creepy). And there, amongst those frozen rosy faces, stared a close relative of Ralph's beloved Satanic Santa.

You remember the Satanic Santa? We wrote about him here. Here is the original iconic photo (before he went to the dogs):

My wife and I moved to California this year (that's what potential editors of iconic biographies of great New Yorkers do), so two yuletide issues arose.

First, I did not bring "Christmas in America" with me. What would I do when Ralph calls? I couldn't lie to the fella. So I trolled Google Images in what I assumed to be a vain attempt to find that image. I mean, it's a big book -- the chances of that particular page being scanned seemed slim. Alas, there it was! A Christmas miracle! So, when Big Pops called me yesterday, I was all ready for him.

Secondly, I would get no visit from Satanic Santa this year. But some Christmas elves took pity on me and put these long-lost brothers of ol' SS in my path:

 

These fellas are so creepy they make me pine for the familiar leer of the original Satanic Santa (seen here with his old friend the Phackelope).

Anyway, Merry Christmas to all you OaKers! Great strides will be made (and many quite wild stories will be told) this year by that kid from the Bronx, Big Pops himself, Ralph Fuccillo!

Santa's Advance Man

Shh! What's that? Is it up on the roof? A little rustling? A faint scurrying? No, it's not the roof. Maybe by the fireplace, a flash of red, a wink of green... CRASH! That came from the kitchen!

Yes, there he is at the counter with a mouthful of bocconotti (those sweet Calabresi tartlets) and powdered sugar on his dark top: THE ITALIAN ELF He's back!

The Italian Elf -- that voice in the tundra, that precursor with the thick Bronx accent, heralding the approach of Santa Nicola!

Only instead of giving gifts, like Babbo Natale, he pops into your cubicle looking for treats for himself (preferably Jordan almonds or Almonda Rocha). So have a bowl at hand, kids and coworkers -- the Italian Elf is here!

Merry Christmas, all you OaKers (that's Once-a-Kid-ers)!