Make the North Pole Great Again

"Sir?" asked the head elf, Pippy Punkrocking.

"Yes, Pippy?" answered Santa.

"Sir, it’s about our NICE list. Last month someone from the NAUGHTY list was transferred over to it. I don’t remember authorizing that." Pippy held a tightly rolled-up scroll. Santa waved his fingers, indicating Pippy should let it roll open, spilling out onto the floor, which it did.

"Who?" Santa asked.

"Here, sir," the elf pointed out.

"Donald...J...Trump," Santa read slowly and deliberately. "Oh, that was me. I made the transfer.”

Pippy frowned, which if it were to continue for too long, could be life-threatening to him, as an elf.

“So what?” Santa argued. “What's the problem? I made the switch. I put him on. Don’t I get to vote?"

"Sir, you rigged it. He's naughty, not nice."

"That’s a matter of opinion, don’t you think? The people thought otherwise. And consider, Pippy, what it takes to be a leader. Some see naughtiness as leadership. You can't lead nations without being stern—even mean sometimes. You've gotta make tough choices. It’s hard. The free world is too important to leave it to someone nice."

"Well, sir, then, leave him on the NAUGHTY list, where belongs.”

“Oh, Pippy, you tricked me with our sharp-tongued little elven doubletalk. No, he’s naughty but, by our standards, he’s nice and stays on the NICE list.”

“But it's his choices that put him on the NAUGHTY list. Where do I even start?"

"You don't, you little Democrat runt!" Pippy's mouth dropped open in disbelief. The frown had only been the beginning; he felt pressure in his chest and began to feel faint. He had never seen Santa like that. He began to cry.

"There, there," Santa cooed, attempting to assuage him. "You have to be a little naughty to send out Seal Team 6, right? Or change regimes, right? Everyone thought Obama was nice, but he did some very naughty things, it turned out. Y'know, Pippy, I've never been elected anything. I'm Santa, because...well...just because."

"Because you're St. Nick! And Jolly. Jolly St. Nick. You're a saint, for goodness’ sake! You don't need to be elected.” Pippy clutched his chest and rubbed his left arm. “But Santa, what you just did wasn’t jolly or saintly. Not at all. It was naughty!"

Santa's assuaging countenance stiffened, becoming severe, even angry. He had a very dark moment.

"What did you just say?" he seethed.

"Oh! Oh! I didn't say you were naughty. Just what you did."

"You want I should put myself on that NAUGHTY list, do you?" Pippy was beside himself. He coughed on his sleeve and saw specks of blood. The animus in the room began to melt the snow outside the door, and some water began slipping over the threshold.

"Of course not, Santa. You? On the NAUGHTY list? Hahahahahahahaha! Never! But him? It's a mistake putting him on the NICE list. A big mistake."

"Not really. I’ve gotten a lot of letters from children asking for their very own Chia®Donald Trumps. And they’re asking me to bring their Dads Trump coins and watches and their Moms a Crystal Trump 2024 Memorabilia Lapel Brooch. I can’t break the hearts of over half the parents’ children out there."

"But," the elf said, "I think it is a mistake. I mean, there's a whole list of things that he's—"

"Pippy, Pippy," Santa cajoled him. "Do you think anyone's above forgiveness? Republicans? Democrats? Pyromaniacs? Remember little Jimmy Nubbins? Set his sister on fire but was really sorry after. Remember?"

“Yes…I remember.”

"Remember the uproar at the list-assignment conclave when half you little guys thought he should stay on the NAUGHTY list? And what did you say? Remember?"

"Yes, Santa..." Pippy answered, swinging a loose foot back and forth.

"You said, 'Don't judge someone by their past…but by the promise of their future.' Your eyes even teared up when you said that."

"I guess so..."

“And you said, ‘Give the little misunderstood tyke another chance. Was it really his fault? Is anything really anyone’s fault anymore?’”

“I suppose…”

“So moving, Pippy. And remember you said, ‘Aren’t we better than this? The NAUGHTY list is written in pencil for a reason. Have we forgotten what erasers are for? Things change. People change. And even if they don’t, who are we to judge? We’re not walking in their official Donald Trump footwear! We don’t know what can make someone choose anything on the spur of the moment. Inclusion means everybody.’ And, ‘Who are we to judge? Give ‘im another chance’—well said! You were such a persuasive and woke little elf—so persuasive that little Jimmy ended up on the NICE list again. He got that PlayStation 5 Pro last Christmas morning, along with his sister getting those finger extension splints. So, waddaya say now about Mr. Trump?"

"Pardon him?"

"Oh, no-no-no-Ho-Ho-Ho! He doesn't need me for that.”

“A nice fruit cake, then? Or better yet—the annual subscription—a new fruit cake arriving every month!"

“That’s the elf I know! Now, off wit’ ya, Pippy. Those Chia pets aren’t gonna grow green hair by themselves!”