…up yo’ hairy ass.
I thought about doing this as a letter to Jen from People I Want to Punch in the Throat. As much as I love her. And her blog. And her snippety blog posts. I also am so fucking mad at her I just punched myself in the tit.
Why? Because she made this Elf on the Shelf thing just out of control (popularity-wise) with her post about Overachieving Elf on the Shelf Mommies.
So the Elf on the Shelf was around before her post, but it was nowhere near as popular (in my opinion, at least). I didn’t even know what the fuck it was until I read her post; and I’ve heard a lot of people say the same. The irony, though, is that these dingbats that credit her as having made the thing so popular, in certain circles, clearly haven’t even read the post, because she’s talking up some mad shit about these dumb assholes that make the elf do all sorts of “naughty” things. Like destroy expensive feather pillows and leave a mess in the kitchen. So these overachieving parents are all “oh … I heard about that Elf over on Huff post” or “oh, I saw that on PIWTPITT’s Facebook!!” And then they go and buy the stupid thing and cut up a goddamned feather pillow to create a mess – so cute, the Elf was naughty over night! Who cares if that pillow cost $80!!! Oh ha ha ha – the Elf took all our ornaments off the Christmas tree! Sure, those ornaments took eight hours to get up there. We broke one in the process and chopped off one of mom’s fingers with the glass; but hey, the Elf is so cute, isn’t it?!
In the end, I chose not to write it as a letter to Jen, simply because (1) I would like to address the Elf on the Shelf users in general terms, not just these overachieving wing nuts; and (2) I don’t know if starting off the blog with “…up yo’ hairy ass” would have been all that appropriate.
Quite frankly, the opportunity to say “…up yo’ hairy ass” was the kicker for me.
Not to be a dick…
But is it that hard to keep our kids under control these days? I mean, I don’t want to sound like one of those pompous assholes who thinks her offspring shits bricks of gold laced in diamonds, but for real parents.
Was the naughty and nice list not enough? Was the visit to Santa Claus at the mall not damning enough, where the fat man reminded your kids in person that they needed to be good? And just why the fuck does the Elf only come out for the month prior to Christmas? I mean, shouldn’t our kids be good all year long? This whole elf thing implies that our kids get to be little assfaces for eleven months of the year, but then we pull out the Elf and if it stays on the shelf for one month the little bastards are deserved of a kidney’s worth of toys.
Give me a fucking break. Your kids don’t need a goddamned plastic Elf to keep them in line. They need a parent.
When I was a kid, it was the belt on the coat rack
When I was a kid, there was no Elf on the Shelf to keep me in line. Santa warned me sometimes, and every once in a while it was the fear that I would be put on the naughty list that kept me in line. But this stupid fucking doll thing wasn’t what kept me in order all year long.
I think it was really the belt on the coat rack that did it for me.
Again, I’m not advocating for child abuse. I don’t believe in spanking. I repeat: I think that spanking sucks because it teaches kids to hit. But I also think that when I was a kid, there was a fear of being spanked, even though it never got to that point. And the fear of being spanked is what kept me in line.
Today kids are too confident in there being no consequences for their horseshit behavior. Maybe the belt on the coat rack isn’t your thing, but there are a lot of other more drastic symbols of consequence and responsibility than a fucking doll. How – exactly – does a fucking blue-eyed plastic doll being removed from a shelf instill the notion of consequences and seriousness in a child? Simple: it doesn’t.
If I had an Elf on the Shelf …
… it would be X-rated.
When I was in high school, my dad and I went into our basement one day to purge all my old, packed-up toys to give to Goodwill. I found my Barbie box and hopped up on the washing machine. While my dad was digging and digging for more things in our humongous basement, I set up all of my Barbies in lewd, sexual positions.
My New Kids on the Block Jordan doll was doing it doggie-style with Skipper. My Barbie was poll dancing against the side of the washing machine. My Ken doll was sitting in the corner questioning his sexuality.
If I had an Elf on the Shelf, I would probably become a teenager again and consistently put it in lewd and disgusting positions. Why you ask? Is it that I’m immature? No. I’m more fucking mature than your grandma I just played BINGO with. No, it’s because I really and truly believe that is the only value such a thing as a fucking plastic doll like that has.
Entertainment. Humor. Learning about the Kama Sutra.
So like I said in the beginning of the post: shove your Elf on the Shelf up yo’ hairy ass. If you want to have one, that’s cool. If it’s become a quaint holiday tradition in your house, I’ll respect that. If your kids wouldn’t consider Christmas to be an occasion without it at this point, you’ve probably failed at teaching your kids the value of Christmas, but I can still understand it.
But if you are one of these asshole parents that makes the rest of us look like lazy dillholes because we aren’t baking cupcakes and shit for this inanimate, plastic doll; or if you look at someone like me that – gasp – doesn’t have an Elf on the Shelf, and say there is something inherently wrong with our elf-less Christmas traditions … well you can just stick it.