By Kris Kringle
Special to YNOT

THE NORTH POLE – Hey bitches, the Man in Red is back — and I’m mad as hell at you porno people.

Last year, I tried to be the bigger person. I tried reaching out to you smut peddlers with a little holiday cheer, delivering baskets of mainstream media goodwill and another solid year of the U.S. government not giving a single shit what you people do, so long as it doesn’t get semen on their furniture.

What do I get in return? Nothing but mockery, another gaggle of cliché photoshoots in which one of my countless imitators pretends to get a lap dance, and a Pornhub Christmas commercial that planted in my head the image of an elderly man masturbating.

Luckily for you assholes, before I could execute my plan to deliver each of you a severely prolapsed anus on Christmas Eve, Mrs. Claus came around to soothe me with my favorite comfort food: cookies, milk and a nice big serving of sweet (albeit geriatric), deep-cleavage motorboating.

Among other things, Ms. Claus also pointed out punishing the porn industry in an overly harsh fashion would have a negative impact on millions of porn fans, at least a couple of whom are otherwise likely to be safely ensconced on my good list.

So, instead of getting a richly deserved surprise trip to urgent care, some of you sleazeballs are going to get gifts, after all. This doesn’t mean they’ll be gifts you’ll like, mind you, but I think it’s safe to say you’ll like them more than having the proverbial pink sock hanging out your rear end. Plus, I’m going to get a few porn-related gifts for people who aren’t, technically, a part of your industry, but who do enjoy your products without paying for them.

For Steve Hirsch, an appropriately reverent and dramatic John Williams-style personal soundtrack that will follow him wherever he goes, emitting blaring trumpets when he enters a room, gentle strings during his more contemplative moments and a thunderously loud version of “The Man” by Aloe Blacc every time he takes the stage to deliver an iconic, visionary, legendary, illustrious keynote speech.

For Mike South, a new executive director for the Free Speech Coalition of whom I am absolutely certain Mike will strongly and unabashedly approve: Donny Long.

For the people of China, Saudi Arabia, Iran and other buzzkill nations where internet porn is routinely blocked and filtered into an obscure, difficult-to-find corner, secure browsers and instructions on how to surf the web anonymously. (Before you ask, Donald Trump: Yes, I will be vetting recipients of these gifts to ensure none of them are terrorists or Mexican rapists. When it comes to vetting, who’s better than Santa? Nobody, that’s who.)

For James Deen, an authentic 1970s-vintage “Fat Albert” T-shirt.

For alleged attorney John Steele, a German passport that identifies him as “Johnnes Stihl,” along with a one-way ticket to Duselldorf.

For the feminist pornographers currently making names for themselves, a signed copy of the Antipornography Civil Rights Ordinance written by Andrea Dworkin and Catharine MacKinnon in the 1980’s, an aesthetically pleasing circular frame in which to place it and a matching set of penis-shaped darts.

For the editors of adult industry news and trade publications, a new email filter that will save them from ever having to read another stupid fucking press release about any company that has been nominated for any manner of award — especially if the award in question happens to be a Grammy.

For George Passias, the now-defrocked Greek Orthodox priest who made the cake-sitting porn videos, I’m getting you something you really should have been offered already by Steve Hirsch; a real porn job to replace the side gig that got your collar yanked. I can’t promise the job will involve some tramp sitting on a slice of cake, but I can promise you won’t get fired from it for fucking someone other than your wife.

For 3^rd Circuit Court of Appeals judges D. Brooks Smith, Anthony Scirica and Marjorie Rendell, who are hearing the FSC’s appeal in Free Speech Coalition v. Attorney General, 14 cases of No-Doz and a new espresso maker, so they’re certain to be awake when listening to the FSC’s arguments, before ultimately finding 2257 constitutional, yet again.

I’m sure some of you feel left out because you’re not on the above list, but if you feel this way, all it means is you’re just as big an asshole and idiot as I thought.

First, I’m not going to sit here all fucking day making a comprehensive list of every pornographer, porn fan and porn star to whom I’m delivering a gift. This is my busy season, know what I’m saying?

Second, get over it for Christ’s sake! Receiving Christmas presents isn’t some kind of civil right. It’s supposed to be something you earn by being good. No, being good at jerking off doesn’t count.

See you next year, fuckers. Until then, can you at least try not to wind up on CNN for the wrong reasons?

By the way: enough with the fucking letters already! I’ll get you people whatever I please, and I stopped reading all that “Dear Santa” shit decades ago. So just cut it out, OK?

Thanks in advance,
Kris

Kris Kringle, also known as Santa Claus, is a beloved and benevolent symbol of Christmas and prime suspect in billions of burglaries annually.