I came across the best article yesterday at NYDaily News.com — Santas are lobbying for H1N1 vaccine shots. And Jim Farber’s story, “Department store Santas lobby to receive H1N1 vaccine before the holidays” is quite a gem.
After explaining why Santas want to be given priority access to the vaccine (read: kids=cooties!) Farber Seusses it up:
It also has to do with the big bellies they sport, according to an AP report.
The article explains that in an effort to control the spread of H1N1, children with coughs may be asked to stand in separate lines, Santas may greet children from a distance rather than from their laps, and John Scheuch at Santa America says:
I don’t know what else I can do except encapsulate myself in plastic.
The Vancouver Sun titled their story on the subject, “In flu season, even Santa’s washing his hands, checking them twice.” The Chicago Sun Times weighs in with, “Vaccine for swine flu tops Santa’s Wish List.” Missourinet gets really musical with ”Santa Flu is coming to town“
What does Felsputzer think? Why, thank you for asking:
‘Twas the Night Before H1N1 Christmas
(for Alan)
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all round the globe
Not a creature was stirring, not even a microbe,
The stockings were hung on the mailbox with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas would keep his sneezes out there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While sucking on lozenges and holding their heads,
And mamma with her handkerchief, and I with my CDC flu map,
Had just settled down for a short, fitful nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I yelled, “Don’t you have the flu, Santa? Do we not matter?”
Away to shut the window I flew in a flash ,
Slammed tight the shutters, splintering the sash;
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Tempted me to forget all the danger below,
Then, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight feverish reindeer,
With a little old driver, so glassy-eyed sick,
I knew in a moment it must be that damned St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers fell lame,
But still he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name,
“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! And don’t you dare fall!”
As dry coughs trumpeted lungs soon to fill,
Was it my imagination, or was I too feeling ill?
Then, up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With a sleigh full of germs, and St. Nicholas too.
And next, in a twinkling, I heard on my roof
The lifeless prancing and pawing of each tired hoof.
As I waved my hands in the air til the antibiotic gel dried,
Down the chimney St. Nicolas came with his brain nearly fried.
He was dressed in his Japanese H1N1-repellant suit,
And his clothes were rumpled from hat to boot,
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And from 6-8 feet away, he looked like a peddler opening his pack.
His eyes – how they swam! His dimples how puffy!
His cheeks looked like Rosacea, his nose orange roughy!
His droll little mouth was pulled into a frown,
And the beard of his chin seemed to really weigh him down,
The end of a thermometer he held tight in his teeth,
His hot breath changed the cold air to a visible wreath,
He had a broad face and a big fat ol’ belly
That shook, as he hacked up a lung as if it were jelly;
He was chubby and plump, at risk of complications,
And I shrieked when I saw him, I wanted libations!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his stiff neck,
Soon gave me to know I too would be sick as heck,
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
“Get out of my house,” I yelled like a jerk.
While holding a tissue to his drippy nose,
He gave me the finger, then up the chimney he rose,
He flopped into the sleigh, and to his team he commanded,
“Look alive, boys, or you’ll be reprimanded!”
And I heard him exclaim, ere he flew out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, to all a good flu-fight.”

Priceless!
Great adaptation and wordsmithing! You’re a natural. Aw, and Santa should find a replacement next time he’s infectious. Haha.
I like this quote tremendously:
“I don’t know what else I can do except encapsulate myself in plastic.”
I’m envisioning plastic encapsulation as part of a collective bargaining unit agreement for a new Santa union. Solidarity, Saint Nick!
Hey, Chris, great blog! Nice to meet a fellow Western Washington blogger, and I really appreciate your having done the research so that I could learn what “felsputzer” means.
Thanks for stopping by Fish & Bicycles recently. I’ve added you to my blogroll, but please don’t feel obligated to reciprocate.
[...] to check out Wallyhood writer Chris Witwer’s personal blog. She’s got the skinny on Santa, H1N1 and you! [...]