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.