Here is wishing you an eight feet deep type of Christmas (if not a whole lot better)

Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho and some more ho. This is my Christmas 2011 message and because of the holidays and the desire to put my poor, crooked toes up and relax, I plan to make this short and sweet. Well, at least I’ll make it short.

To all you non-believers out there, Yes, Damn right Virginia, there is a Santa Claus, and yes, North Carolina and yes, Delaware and yes, Maryland and yes, by God, West Virginia.

Santa on board a C-17 delivers fuel to remote bases in Afghanistan with some help from Tech. Sgt. Mike Morris of Charleston A.F.B., S.C. (U.S. Air Force photo by Staff Sgt. Nathanael Callon)

If you still don’t believe in Santy Claws, then check out NORAD’s page. I mean, NORAD, they’re the ones who keep track of objects which belong and don’t belong in our skies. If you can’t believe them … Pretty interesting story how NORAD got into the business of tracking Santa Claus. You can read for yourself, but a short version:

“It all started in 1955 when a Sears media advertisement directed kids to call Santa Claus but printed a telephone number that rang through to the crew commander on duty at the Continental Air Defense Command Operations Center.

“The colonel on duty told his staff to give all children who called in a “current location” for Santa Claus. The tradition continued when NORAD replaced CONAD in 1958.”

Well, that’s all I have to say about that. Dadblamed Gump! Now he’s got me saying it.

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