LISA TIMMONS

Have you seen the new commercials for this Palm Centro thing? It’s some kind of phone and at the forefront of their marketing campaign is a thin, young, hipster Santa Claus who is so cool, you can spot him on any given night spinning at a rooftop party in the city.

I don’t know how I feel about this youthful view of Santa. As artificial of an image as he’s become, there was still something comforting about the “bowl full jelly” around his middle. Did he have a mid-life crisis? Do I have to worry about running into Santa at my gym and putting me on his naughty list because he’s noticed that I’m skimping on my cardio training? Or even worse, does Santa now have ABS??? Please God, tell me he doesn’t have a Bowflex at home and Zone bars in his pockets.

Call me old-fashioned, but I like my Santa like I like my worthless drunks—red-nosed, with a gut and convinced that he can squeeze himself into my house through the chimney. I refuse to serve the man low-carb cookies and skim milk.

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