Cult of the Coca-Cola King

He sees you when you're sleeping,
He knows when you're awake,
He's off his medication,
So be good for goodness sake.



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It's all stuff you've heard before. Traditionally, Saint Nicholas and Father Christmas had a slim build and dressed more like normal people of their historical period.

Then came the Coca-Cola coup d'etat. Big and fat (but apparently healthy), red and white, naughty and nice.

What could have become another transient ad campaign, instead transformed the popular image of Santa.

What else? The attribution of divine qualities and a growing cult of zombie followers.

Since when did Saint Nicholas, an actual person, come to be all-knowing and capable of the omnipotent act of passing righteous judgement on all children, in the form of gifts, in a single night?

Well, things change, new "traditions" start and old traditions grow and develop as they are influenced by the trends of the people who practise them.

What are the current trends? Where is Santa going?

Pagan idolatry and human sacrifice, of course. The Oracle of the North Pole.

They bring their children to sit on his lap and make supplication of him while he sits on his throne in the Great Temple of Mammon, the shopping mall.

Whoa, far out. What else?

The Trojan horse of modern times. He brings about the fall of a whole civilization, not just a single city as with Troy.

Look, see him carried into the city, the round, plump, jolly old fellow. Past the city gates, into the town square. The merchants love him and exhort the people to step forward and touch the foreign construction and join in its adoration.

A helicopter descends. Lowered by a rope and bathed in spotlights, the CEO of that great multinational bestows on the head of Santa, his Coca-Cola crown.

Then at night, the bloated body splits and from every crack and orifice pours a thousand thieves.
 

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