Scott Hunter Presents: CHRISTMAS

Hello one and all, and welcome to the 275th annual reading of the official unlicensed Scott Hunter story of Christmas, unabridged, adapted, and directed by Martin Scorsese, with a soundtrack featuring the hits of Paul Simon, Billy Joel, and Stryper. As everyone knows, Christmas was invented in 1954 by Bing Crosby, who later invented a type of cherry and the fifth-most popular search engine. Sadly, Mr. Crosby has passed away; however, his legacy is continued by his son, Chandler, and daughter, Bada. You may be wondering why I, Scott Hunter, would choose to recite this story for people for the last 275 years, and in response, I would tell you to shut your whore mouth and never question my motives. Telling you to shut your whore mouth was a little bit over the top for me and for the Christmas season, so I apologize, but take that as a lesson to control your words better in the future. Anyway, Christmas mainly began because a guy named Joseph forgot to sign onto his Hotels.com account and reserve a hotel for Christmas Eve, even though his wife Mary had been nagging him about it for weeks. Lo and behold, they showed up at the Courtyard Marriott, and Mary was shocked to find out they did not have a reservation, and therefore were told they would need to sleep out in a filthy, disgusting, disease-ridden hovel. But there was no room in Ivan Stanislav’s house either, so instead they stayed in what is called a “manger.” Mary was concerned because, as a child, she had been taught that sleeping in a manger could be hazardous to one's health. This is what is commonly referred to as ‘manger danger’, and along with ‘stop, drop and roll’ is one of the two most common adult warnings given during childhood in the Middle East. There is also another one about warming your falafel, but that sounds dirty and inappropriate for this setting. Needless to say, a manger is not a decent place for a baby to be born. There were no pain medicines, no blankets, and no mini-bar, not even the kind with twenty-five-dollar mineral waters. What is mineral water anyway? And what is a mineral? I think it is a made-up word, but Kerry insists that it is completely real. Kerry also has the Chinese character for the phrase ‘candy corn’ tattooed on his left thigh, though, so I don’t know what to think. In case it comes up, he just really likes the candy; it is not the name of a stripper he once met in Astoria, Oregon. That seems oddly specific, but I assure you it is entirely randomized. Despite the lack of a minibar and the non-stripper candy corn, finally, the baby was born. Naturally, Mary named him Kareem, since she was a big fan of Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, who was famous for starring in the movie Airplane. “That’s ridiculous,” Joseph said. “If anything, we will name him Leslie, after the real star of that film.” “That’s fair,” Mary replied. So they compromised and named him Jesus instead. Yeah, I don’t get it either. But I do agree that telling the story of the baby Kareem would have been awkward. Before anyone knew what had hit them, faster than you can say ‘extra mustard on my hot dog, please’, word was getting out concerning this baby, with many thinking he wasn’t just another random baby born in an oddly placed manger just outside the Poughkeepsie Courtyard by Marriott. No, this baby was the SON OF GOD. (insert thunder and lightning sound effect) I agree that is a big leap from a newborn infant almost named Kareem, but trust me when I say this is how it went down. It’s in the Constitution. Some of the people who heard about the baby were three super smart guys from the Midwest. They were so smart that they were called ‘wise men’ and did not have actual names of their own. It’s possible their names were Jeff, Franklin, Herve, Carl, or Childish Gambino. I don’t know for sure. I do know they weren’t named Lee or Mike, because like I said, they were wise men. When these three men arrived, they gave the baby some trash gifts, such as incense and myrrh. They also gave what they claimed to be gold, but in reality looked like the foil paper that truffles are wrapped in. Babies don’t care about any of that stuff, and that is why this is also the very first time anyone returned a rubbish gift to Macy’s in exchange for something nicer, like a wool sweater or women’s pumps. I bet the baby just wanted some more of that killer breast milk that Mary be pumpin’ pumpin’ pumpin’. I know that sounds like the name of a Destiny’s Child song, but trust me, it is not. I checked. Anyway, Mary was really upset because Joseph had slipped away to watch the Eagles game in the hotel lobby, as if forgetting to get a reservation wasn’t bad enough. It was like a slap in the face, but at least he brought her back some popcorn, which was nice of him. Where was I? Oh, right, the Son of God. Some people don’t believe in this baby, but I think Christmas is more a state of mind than a statement of religious belief. It doesn’t matter who you are, where you come from, what you’ve done, when you did it, why you did it, where you did it, what you are, when you came from the place you came from, who you did it to, what happened when you did it, or when the why was done, all that matters is that you are loved, probably, most likely. There’s like a 75% chance. So just remember during this holiday season that I, Scott Hunter, wish you, yours, their, ours, and then you and yours again, a very happy Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Boxing Day, Las Posadas, Three Kings Day, St. Lucia’s Day, or Day of Goodwill. I also understand today is National Pumpkin Pie Day, Twelvetide, and tomorrow is National Candy Cane Day, so if you want to throw that in, I’m okay with it. In closing, even though I lost recently to my good friend Kerry, I can promise that I will be back stronger and better than ever as we start 2026, and you can all look forward to even bigger and brighter things from me next year. Until we meet again, go and get me the biggest goose they have. God bless us, every one. Okay bye.