As the old year draws to a close, one can't help but reflect on what hasn't been done and what can never be reclaimed. Say what you will about this year, it is lost, it is gone. And as I look around me I can honestly say there is no group that I would rather be with to face the grim specter of death racing with blinding speed so inexorably towards us.
It's Christmas Eve. –Yeah. You don't have to tell me that. –Yeah, well, then why aren't you out delivering presents? –Technically, I am. –Well, you're not, 'cause you're stood right there. –Oh, Shona, grow up, luv. –Yeah, do the math, baby. –There's not just one Santa delivery team. How could there be? There are 526,403,012 children all expecting presents before tomorrow morning. So that's 22,000,000 children per hour! That's impossible. Obviously, I've got a second sled.
We can stand about arguing whether I'm real or not, or, uh, are we gonna get busy saving Christmas? –Oh, Santa goes bad-ass! –Oh, he's giving me the feels. –Shut up. That's a-- That's a verbal warning. Please, stop it.