Arguing against human nature is an argument you can never win.
Progress blows a strong wind.
This particular trip across the rooftops and frozen fields were not an easy one for SANTA.
As twilight swooped and wrapped itself around the shapes of night as if being absorbed by blue velvet, it bode that this Christmas work season would more than likely be the last for Saint Nick and his trusted lieutenant and long time friend, RUDOLF, the famous Red Nosed reindeer. And as they hurtled themselves into the starry fade, three issues were at work in the mind of Santa, two related. One, Mrs. Santa had coyly asked Nick for a 'rabbit' for the holidays, to keep her warm and tingly while the venerated Saint were away on deliveries, and Old Nick had actually gone out and gotten her just that, a RABBIT, though without the quotation marks and innuendo. 
Santa really didn't understand why the Mrs. stopped speaking to him after he poured a bouncing white, pink eyed rabbit, into her lap. She thought about serving it to him for his pre-delivery lunch, the big one he liked to have on the afternoon of his big evening, but decided to just keep it and give it to one of the elves, for their children. The other two issues related to the more than generous offer that the Chinese, his new manufacturers, had made for Rudolf, enough to reinvest a great deal of money back into Santa's various enterprises and charities, clear his outstanding debts, and possibly gird his financial loins in such an event that he is left for any reason by the voluble Mrs. Santa, who had been acting distant as of late. It would also provide a pension for the elves. 
The final matter were his GPS system, and how expendable it now made a vulnerably redundant Rudolf. Santa were told that Rudolf's red nose alone could fetch a tidy fortune, and that scientist's were also eager to dissect his fabled body before turning it over to the butchers for the meat, no ordinary venison this. And in Asia, the antlers would earn a third world bounty, sold as nature's Viagra, its horn of plenty. 
Of course, after so many valued years, Santa had no heart for such a transaction. But he were no fool, he DID at least have a business mind which knew few rivals. And in the event that he had to defend himself once more in court, against a rebuffed housewife, some war chest money set aside for which days may rain and reign again, was a good and practical idea. In a pensive mode, his brow furrowed by quiz, Santa thought philosophically to himself, 'in time all things must come to an end, even flying reindeer who are pretty much extinct. Even one who is a hero to children all over this wonderful world.' What Rudolf alone could earn for Santa were more than enough to upgrade his state of the art GPS system to highest possible military grade. 
The reindeer were now more of a sentimental abstraction for St. Nicholas. He knew that he were dancing slowly with his final golden days and held the reins none too lightly during. While he could see the light ahead, he knew the way forward. But there were things to consider, though not with a sentimental mind, which might get in the way of new rationale. A jaundiced mind is no asset to growth. As Rudolf guided his team of antler bearing compadres through the blasting furry snow, he had no idea that old Saint Nick were counting, not sheep in his mind at night, but bonds and shares. And promotional possibilities. Neither could Rudolf know of the theme park that Santa had been considering building to honor his dear friend, while expanding Santa's brands in the vast Chinese and Asian markets. 
The moral of the story? Writers cannot afford morals in a commercial world and hope to survive it. Besides, the cost of cynicism is best paid in one lump sum. As, once one makes a down payment, one is hooked for life.



Dedicated to all of our health and to your and my good friend, master GEORGE MICHAEL.

In next writings; RUDOLF IN REHAB.