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Da Wolf Report
December 7th, 2002
M. Dealer Love reporting

Ladies and gentleman, may I have your attention...aw Jesus, does anyone have a cigarette? I left mine in the car. Thanks. Ladies and gentlemen for this I will need your full and undivided attention. What I am about to tell you carries such macabre implications, such sinister insinuations filled with downright, cotton-pickin, dirty nastiness, that until just an hour ago information concerning this particular topic was locked in an underground vault labeled 'Top Secret', and viewed only by the classified, discriminating eye. This privileged inside info has been provided by the undaunted toil of many agents who are still hard at work uncovering the truth, which for years has been brutally and surreptitiously suppressed. Prepare yourself, for what I am nigh to revealing would find a more genteel class running blind from this medium in a fever, trampling innocent women and children, and goring their own in egression from the self-wrought nightmare inside. Yes ladies and gentleman, I am speaking of the deadly Santa virus.

No one knows for sure where the virus originated, but its classic, eccentric symptoms have been recorded as such: Generous giving without expectation; unquestionable attention to the amusement and pleasure of children; a jingling in the ears that many have described as the ring-ting-tingling of sleigh bells; and an all-around constitution, as Shakespeare put it, "as merry as the day is long."

The most recent outbreak of the Santa virus here in San Diego has also found its victims with an unflinching desire to point due North, as well as fond remembrances of snow as a youth, even if one was raised in the subtropics.

In one bizarre aberration of the virus reported in rural Indiana the victim found herself with a bestial craving to share explicit feelings with a large, stud caribou, which she affectionately named Rudy.

These symptoms may seem alarming at first, but be warned - this is no snow job. If you encounter anyone exhibiting these characteristics you are to notify authorities immediately.

The virus travels fast and spreads quickly to others surrounding the unfortunate, unsuspecting carrier. The infection is denied at first. The building of small wooden trucks and flaxen haired molly-dollies is defended as an invigorating new hobby. Soon the victim finds he is spending all his free time in the workshop constructing toys. This symptom is followed by the establishing of a distribution network.

As the virus reaches its dreaded 'Meta' stage the carrier finds himself hiring more and more vertically challenged helpers to build the playthings, while he feels an overwhelming desire to personally take the reins of the delivery department, overseas as well as domestic.

In the horribly sad, final stage of the contagion the delirious individual will load as many modern kitchen and bathroom appliances as possible into a pillowcase, and head up to the roof expecting to find a sleigh, only to be, like Charles Foster Kane or Ebeneezer Scrooge, gravely disappointed. Remember friends, a roof is no place to realize that you are, after all, not on a mission from St. Nick.

If you or anyone you know develops symptoms of this crippling disease of unselfish, gleeful sharing, please seek help at your local poison control center, where trained staff are waiting with the most humane treatment currently available.

Whether you are insured or not you will be given an introductory dose of recent commercial television, the first regimen of recovery. Many find this to a tremendous pick-me-up that overtly relieves their sense of needless philanthropy, and instills their body with a more traditional feeling reminiscent of the hallowed chestnut "I got mine, you get yours." Some even report the tincture of television at the center to be an elixir in itself, and are sent home to convalesce with a pat on the back, a prescription of six hours of daytime network programming in their pocket, and an emphatic "Glad it's not me" from under the receptionist's breath.

Chronic cases are interred until they can be evacuated to a more permanent curative facility already housed in your area's major-department-store-anchored, exurban shopping mall. There, rehabilitation may last upwards of seven months, unless the patient is fortunate enough to be stricken in the latter half of the calendar year. The post-Thanksgiving feeding frenzy gives doctors an invaluable tool in the fight against this rabid infector, and it provides a much needed holiday boost for the victim's desire to return to a normal, self-oriented, mindlessly-consuming lifestyle.

Vanquished are the dreams of one day uniting mankind under one big, rainbow-print umbrella filled with peace and harmony. After just one day of exposure to the typical Pomplona-esque stampede of bargain hunters at the facility, many of those being treated show a marked turn in attitude toward the melancholy (seen by specialists as a favorable sign) and many squabble needlessly amongst themselves over petty issues (also seen by specialists as a favorable sign.)

By the time they leave the center's therapeutic warmth they are good as new; completely restored from their determination to grow a long, white beard and eat bear fat; ready to start life anew in the push-and-shove mosh pit of American consumption.

This warning should be taken as seriously as last summer's outbreak of facial-hair scabies among County construction workers, a local epidemic which merely scratched the sometimes sticky surface of unseen and unrealized pestilence. Make no mistake - the Santa virus is a force to be reckoned with now and in the future.

The consequences of an archaic bane such as this capitalizing on some innate sense of human kindness would completely alter modern life as we know it. The surrender of the defense industry, the buyout of the home shopping networks, the loss of professional athletics, and the death of managed health care are just some of the predicted results if this altruistic epidemic were to snowball into an avalanche of worldwide glad tidings.

Remember, protection and abstinence are the keys to surviving this potential catastrophe. So until next time support your local television ministry, see your stock broker on a regular basis, and keep buying those state-run lottery tickets every chance you get.

Take heed - the life you save may be your own.


© 2002 M. Dealer Love




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Too long huh? Bah Humbug. Well it is funny.

I think.