3, 2,1, Reach for the sky!

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You know the holidays are messed up when even Santa’s trying to escape. Look at this, the elves one’s cheering like he just won the lottery, the other’s got PTSD from watching Santa get launched like a Christmas firework. That’s not teamwork, that’s a workplace meltdown. You think the North Pole has HR? No, they’ve got reindeer and denial.
And the reindeer — poor bastard — he’s standing there like, ‘I knew I should’ve transferred to Easter Bunny Logistics.’ He’s got that look. That ‘I didn’t sign up for this’ look. You know what that is? That’s the face of someone who’s seen too many weird things in December.
This whole scene — it’s not Christmas, it’s a cry for help wrapped in tinsel. Santa’s not delivering joy, he’s delivering himself to orbit. And the calendar says ‘02’? What is that, the second day of the elf uprising? Day two of ‘Operation: Launch the Boss’? I don’t know, but I’m telling you — if Santa’s blasting off, we’re all screwed.
And you know what? I get it. I do. You spend centuries being the symbol of joy, and what do you get? People screaming at you in malls, cookies made of drywall, and a global logistics nightmare. No wonder he’s strapping himself to a rocket. That’s not escape — that’s self-care.