WOOF: Woop-Woop Wednesday...She Santa?

We can't prove a WOOFer wrote this...but truthfully, we wouldn't be surprised!

I hate to be the one to defy sacred myth, but I believe he's a she. Think about it. Christmas is a big, organized, warm, fuzzy, nurturing social deal, and I have a tough time believing a guy could possibly pull it off!

For starters, the vast majority of men don't even think about selecting gifts until Christmas Eve. It's as if they are all frozen in some kind of Ebenezerian Time Warp until 3 p.m. on Dec. 24th, when they - with amazing calm - call other errant men and plan for a last-minute shopping spree.

Once at the mall, they always seem surprised to find only Ronco products, socket wrench sets, and mood rings left on the shelves. (You might think this would send them into a fit of panic and guilt, but my husband tells me it's an enormous relief because it lessens the 11th hour decision-making burden.) On this count alone, I'm convinced Santa is a woman. Surely, if he were a man, everyone in the universe would wake up Christmas morning to find a rotating musical Chia Pet under the tree, still in the bag.

Another problem for a he-Santa would be getting there. First of all, there would be no reindeer because they would all be dead, gutted and strapped on to the rear bumper of the sleigh amid wide-eyed, desperate claims that buck season had been extended. Blitzen's rack would already be on the way to the taxidermist. Even if the male Santa DID have reindeer, he'd still have transportation problems because he would inevitably get lost up there in the snow and clouds and then refuse to stop and ask for directions. Add to this the fact that there would be unavoidable delays in the chimney, where the Bob Vila-like Santa would stop to inspect and repoint bricks in the flue. He would also need to check for carbon monoxide fumes in every gas fireplace, and get under every Christmas tree that is crooked to straighten it to a perfectly upright 90-degree angle.

Other reasons why Santa can't possibly be a man:

• Men can't pack a bag.
• Men would rather be dead than caught wearing red velvet.
• Men would feel their masculinity is threatened...having to be seen with all those elves.
• Men don't answer their mail.
• Men would refuse to allow their physique to be described even in jest as anything remotely resembling a "bowlful of jelly."
• Men aren't interested in stockings unless somebody's wearing them.
• Having to do the Ho Ho Ho thing would seriously inhibit their ability to pick up women.
• Finally, being responsible for Christmas would require a commitment.

I can buy the fact that other mythical holiday characters are men...

• Father Time shows up once a year unshaven and looking ominous. Definite guy.
• Cupid flies around carrying weapons.
• Uncle Sam is a politician who likes to point fingers.

Any one of these individuals could pass the testosterone screening test. But not St. Nick. Not a chance. As long as we have each other, good will, peace on earth, faith, and Nat King Cole's version of "The Christmas Song," it probably makes little difference what gender Santa is.

I just wish she'd quit dressing like a guy!!! (From the site Comic Relief)

Speaking of Christmas...Remember WOOF: Women Only Over Fifty is the perfect gift for that feisty over fifty woman!

Red Dress Diary - Entry Four, Love Is A Ride On A B-17

Mad Dog's gettin' married! Every Friday we're reading from her "secret" diary as the big day approaches! Shhh... Here's the four entry:


The best gifts we receive usually don't cost a lot of money. They come straight from the heart, and really do have a lot of thought behind them.

Tom recently heard that rides on a vintage B-17 aircraft were going to be offered at a local air show. After deciding that I would probably kill him if he spent $425 on a half-hour ride, he opted to buy forty dollars worth of raffle tickets in an attempt to win the flight for me.

My Dad was the radioman on a B-17 during World War II, and Tom knew how much it would mean to me to be able to sit on that tiny seat, surveying all the communication equipment my deceased father would have used during his thirty-five successful bombing missions.

Tom told me about this "second anniversary of our meeting" gift and I was thrilled. It didn't matter if he won. It was the idea that he would, one: remember the day we met, and two: want to give me such an emotional experience. And then--he won!

I took my amazing ride on a sunny Sunday afternoon. I had mentioned my father to someone as we boarded. Immediately a crew member took me to the radioman's seat and strapped me in. Then he whispered, "You Dad is here with you."

I got more than a lump in my throat looking out the little window, as we soared above the trees in that enormous plane. I tried to imagine what horrific things Dad might have seen during combat, and I was once again thankful that he and many other men and women made such great sacrifices to insure my freedom.

Tom and my father never had the opportunity to meet, but I know my Dad is happy to know that I am marrying a man who gave me such a wonderful, loving gift.

Melinda (Mad Dog)

Check out the full story and photos of Mad Dog's B-17 flight on Milkbone's April 6th blog entry!