The old, white bearded, white guy
sits on the throne of heaven and

decrees this and decrees that and
good, old, Mister Charlie, white

as white can be, says, “Pardon
me. These decrees are for me but

not for thee (to use the old,
white bearded, white guy’s King

James which was good enough for
St. Paul, another old, white guy,

sort of, sort of like Sallman’s
Christ).” But, sorry, Mister

Charlie. You must be thinking of
lily white Megyn’s white Santa

Claus, just as sweet as sweet
can be except when he gives a

lump of black coal to thee, which
surely will come to be, Mister Charlie.