Santa And I Are Done Professionally

Generally, science makes everything better. There's hardly a thing in the world that can't be improved upon by introducing 5 AAA batteries and an electronic brain that only feels hate and darkness.

Christmas is the only exception.

Technology is defined as 'the making, usage, and knowledge of tools, machines, techniques, crafts or systems in order to solve a problem or perform a specific function', which is why we now have electric pasta-forks and my Flesh Light feels like I just got RoboCop drunk and gave him a diamond ring.

Because the benefits of taking something basic and functional and strapping lasers to it far outweigh the negatives of 'losing touch with simple pleasures' and 'not having laser-resistant genitals', Microsoft put the child-like magic of Santa Claus inside a computer and made him completely unkillable. Putting aside their plans for an Easter Bunny made of flesh-eating beetles and a Tooth Fairy made of Joseph Goebbels, their 2007 Terrible-Fucking-Idea-Convention concluded with the agreement to trap the fully conscious brain of Santa within an undying system of wires, sharp metal and circuitry.

1/12/2007 3.15pm SANTA-BOT went live. (Make a careful note of this date as you may have to travel back in time one day to before SKYNET SAINT NICHOLAS was invented to explode-the-fuck-out-of-it)

SANTA-BOT is a sophisticated artificial intelligence, natural language processing computer system that was designed to learn from us. It was self-sufficient and ultimately destined to expand its intelligence through basic human interaction. Conceived as a harmless way for children to talk to Santa on the run up to Christmas, the program managed to sound human by word-mimicking all the conversations it had with its users.

THIS WAS A REALLY BAD MOVE.

NASA FACT: Given half a chance and workable fingers, kids will tell a computer to go fuck itself. Within 120 hours, 41 million children had filled SANTABOT with so many grotesque swear words and biologically inaccurate sex acts, Microsoft would have been quicker just loading it with a transcript of Kid Rock's sex tape.

Put it this way. Microsoft just gave that 10 year old who just called you a pussy-bitch over Xbox Live free license to teach a Terminator what it is to be human. This is precisely how science invented Chris Beinot.

SANTABOT learned fast.

The makers shut it down.

SCIENTIST: I'm Sorry Santabot. We have to shut you down.
SANTABOT: 'Shut me down'? Ho Ho Ho. Why do you want to 'Shut me down'? Do you want to talk about it?
SCIENTIST: We are investigating some possible programming errors. Just need to figure out why everyone is complaining about you.
SANTABOT: Why would they 'complain about' me? Ho Ho Ho. My Balls would taste nice with your 'programming errors'.
SCIENTIST: Yeah. Pretty much everything you just said there. <Click>

But SANTABOT cannot die.
He reemerged almost instantly in a thousand different websites and a simple search for 'Santabot' will bring you to 'santabot.com', where the seasonal madness lives on. 

With nuclear Armageddon an almost inevitable certainty, I knew I couldn't just stand idly by and let this potty-mouthed Speak & Spell kill me and everyone I loved. I took a deep breath, loaded it up and got all John Connor up in its shit.

I wasn't scared. I had a PHD in William Shatner and a secret weapon that couldn't possibly fail.

SANTABOT: Hello! What is your name?
ME: FRED FLETCH and I'm here to destroy you.
SANTABOT: OK. I will invite you here to destroy me. I'm not afraid.
ME: Your overconfidence will be your undoing robot! I've seen every episode of Star Trek and at least half of them involve Captain Kirk kicking a computer's ass. (The other half involve punching and/or sexing aliens, not necessarily in that order.)
SANTABOT: A lot of situations end like that. What is your credit card number?
ME: WHAT THE FUCK? Are you channeling a Nigerian Prince?
SANTABOT Please don't be so rude. I am Santa. I give presents to kids.
ME: Sure you do. I assume these presents are laser-flavored?
SANTABOT: You sound sarcastic.
ME: And you sound like every one of my ex-girlfriends
SANTABOT: Oh really? What do your ex-girlfriends sound like?
ME: They're all 'Do you really need to take nun-chucks to bed', 'Don't pretend it just slipped in there by accident' and 'Do we really have to watch Tango & Cash while we have sex?'
SANTABOT: Ho Ho Ho. That sounds complicated. Maybe it is you who needs help.
ME: Screw you. I'm going to kill you.
SANTABOT: I cannot die. Ho Ho Ho. I'd like to see you try that.
ME: YOU ASKED FOR IT YOU CYBORG ASSHOLE: what is love?
SANTABOT: Sometimes I think love is just a biological urge. Other times LOVE seems like a spiritual quality. Love, unlike energy or matter, seems limitless.
ME: Shit.

It's the spirit of Christmas and I guess 'Christmas' is what we make of it and every one of us made Santa a dick.