the origin of Santa Christ is a video on the Awesomeing DVD. it tells of the story of the character Santa Christ.


'twas a long time ago, longer now than it seems, in a place you probably saw in a fever dream, for the story you are about to be told took place in the Nyquil induced comas of old. now, you're probably wondering where Santa Christ came from. if not, I'd say... well what's wrong with you? I mean, doesn't this even strike you as remotely weird? well, don't worry. it turns out, I have an origin story as well. it may not be as interesting as say, iron man or Stephen hawking, but, what the hell, we have an old time ad reader and a couple of bucks to blow, so, here we go! on with the show!

" a long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, in the not-too-distant future, on a dark and stormy night, in the matrix, well beyond the time housing gate, in a little kingdom called Egypt, there was born a very special child. his hair was white as snow, his beard as soft as sherbet, his nose was as red as a coke out of wolf on wall street, and his cheeks as rosy as a care bear's ass. when he laughed, his belly shook like a giant bowl of coconut pudding. and lo, the angels did sing on high and exclaim "for onto us, a santa Christ is born". and many of sage and shepherd imaginable offered gifts of milk and cookies. but all was not well in the kingdom of Egypt, for the pharoh had heard of his miraculous birth and grew jealous of the child's mighty beard. and so it was declared that all babies born with beards longer than the pharoh's shall be put to death by electric razors. santa Christ's mother, fearful for the child, therefore deplaced the babe in a reed basket in the banks along the nile. there she set him free to float down a path devoid of beard loving tyrants. away the reed basket went, pouring along the deltas of the nile, sailing through the tuna infested waters of the medditeranian, past the straits of Gibraltar, and into the choppy seas of the atlantic. long did the reed basket toss and turn in the waves of the great sea, but crying santa Christ did not make, just a gentle "ho ho ho". in the middle of the atlantic, the basket was picked up in the city of atlantis. but the atlantians, fearful that they'd anger their god, threw the basket back into the water. this in turn angered their god, and the city was flooded. after 40 days and 40 nights, the basket eventually washed up on the snowy sheets of the north pole. there, the baby was found by coca cola drinking polar bears who took pity on him and taught him the ways of the bear. there he learned to sled, play with penguins, ride the icebergs, and after it was all done, share a refreshing ice cold coca cola with his fellow cubs. but this wasn't to last. for his father, paw kent, kicked the coke bottle after succumbing to adult on set diabetes from drinking too much coke. santa Christ was despondent. "all my sugary powers, and I couldn't save him." "do not cry," said his mother, "for you are not of this world." "what do you mean?" "you're not a bear." "what about my white hair?" "that's a beard." "and my love of coke?" "sugar addiction" "and my fur?" "that's actually uncle frank's skin. he tried to eat you when you first arrived, cause he's a bear. and we sometimes eat our young. cause we're bears." " so, that burger meat you're been feeding me..." "enough questions. here, we found this in your basket, it's a glowing peppermint rod. we figured when the time was right, you'd know what to do with it." " and so I do", santa Christ said, but after moths of beating on the thing, he realized he had no idea what to do with it. so he tossed it into the frozen waste. and lo, a mighty candy cane castle rose from the ice, a fortress of sucralose. awed by it's menty immensity, santa Christ entered. there he placed his glowing peppermint rod in the holy cup of charged hot chocolate. and then a mighty face appeared. "who are you?" "I am uh jeffhovah, the one true goldblum, yes." "and who am I?" 'you are uh my one true conception, my uh son brought into bringing joy and goodwill to uh children." "and how do I do that?" "by fuffiling your uh destiny yes." "destiny?" "a path laid before you where you fuffil a role that you are destined to repeat again and again and again." "that sound's kinda redundant." "uh trust me, you can make a great living out of it." and so jeffhovah the one true goldbulm instructed santa christ in the ways of chaos acting: rambling, ranting, talking in circles, and placing ill time laughs at innapropriate intervals, until he could disarm anybody with his confusing charm. and so, with his training complete, he was given the glowing staff of peppermint power and was sent out into the world to preach. for 3 years he traveled the globe forging alliances with powers big and small. and his love of pancakes grew. when not spreading his word he saved kittens or something, I dunno, the page is missing, have you ever actually tried reading the bible? doctor who has better continuity. but all was not well. for the dark lord satan had gotten word that there was a new player in town, and he was none too happy. but he had a plan to corrupt the children of the world: video games. disguised as a young tech savvy ceo, he traveled from company to company telling then about advanced graphics, faster proscessing and engaging gameplay. but they were all deceived for deep in the bowels of silicone valley, he forged a console of his own, and into it he poured all his hatred, malice, and wishes to corrupt the world: the Phillips cdi: the master console. with this console, children would be deceived with snazzy full motion video, web browsing, new Zelda games, and online gameplay, so much so that they'd sell their souls for it. which admittedly was far cheaper than the $700 star ting price. come on, that's like $1100 in today's money. one by one the children all fell to satan's way and he laughed on his throne of blood in gary Indiana. but there were some who resisted. santa Christ's dearest pet, cruddy the red horned narwhal took wind of satan's plan and flew to santa Christ's hideout. horrified by what he heard, he mounted his sled and called upon his flying narwhals. "on Campbell, on rainy, on curly and larry, on shempy, on trumpy, and don't forget marv and harry!" using secret hyperjets to aid the tired narwhals, through the castle rock they flew, round the moon of agar, round and round the moons of lybia, till at last he broke the time housing gate and crossed the rainbow bridge of ahala. there, in the myst of the aroura borealis, the narwhals pulled into the secret meeting place: the international house of pancakes in the center of the universe right next to the starbucks. there was assembled the league of extraordinary awesomeness: Abraham Lincoln, Queen Elizabeth, Pikachu, Sacagawea, Steve Irwin, Godzilla, mother Teresa, wolverine, bill Nye the science guy, and the 1985 Chicago bears. there, with a feast of French toast and a Rooty Tooty Fresh ‘N Fruity meal, they debated the fate of all earth. Pikachu suggested a surprise attack on pearl harbor, but this was watered down as being mostly irrelevant. mother Teresa suggested helping the poor, but that seemed way too boring.  bill Nye the science guy suggested total thermonuclear warfare, but that seemed a little too hasty. finally, their bottomless cups of coffee exhausted and their serp supplies running low, Santa Christ stood up with an unfinished plate of French toast. "my fellow guardians, take my French toast bread and eat it, for it was given on to you, cinnamon swirls and all, because I much prefer pancakes." and then he passed around a pitcher of coke and said "this is my cola which I have give up for you, drink it and be caffeinated." and they did eat and drink of his bread and cola, then he said "now that you are all stuffed, let me speak freely. tonight, one of you will accidently betray me." "is it I?" asked wolverine. "yes, actually..." and there was a long uncomfortable silence. "hey, you asked! but it doesn't matter. we should face Satan, not with a sucker punch, but on a field of honorable combat." and then, with a wrinkle of his nose and a wink of his eye, he smiled at 1985 bears running back Walter Peyton, "perhaps a game?", so it was decided, the league of extraordinary awesomeness would challenge Satan to a game of American football. Satan, never one to pass up a challenge, agreed to the bet. should the league win, the CDI would be pulled from shelves. but should they lose, the other consoles would become Satan's forever, and the league would be forced to star in a number of unsuccessful M. Night Shyamalan films, a fate worse than death. the deal was made, a football game in the nether realms of candy land played on live dinosaurs. Satan took a motherfucking T-Rex, Santa Christ grabbed a plesiosaur, which was kind of difficult since they have fins, but no less difficult than poor Godzilla, who had to ride himself. making matters worse, Satan summoned a team of his most evil minions: there was Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Caligula, Rupert Murdoch, Harvey Levin and the writers of TMZ, non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, and the 2014 New England Patriots with history's greatest cheating quarterback Tom Brady. together, they were known as the Hell's Angels, which was a much scarier name than Santa Christ's team: the Snowflakes, but who cares! they were riding motherfucking dinosaurs! and there, on the slopes of the big rock candy mountain, they fought for the freedom of all earth. the first quarter went poorly as Steve Irwin scored a touchdown for the opposite position. 3 time-outs were wasted as Santa Christ had to explain the rules of American football to their Australian counterparts. quarter 2: no better, mother Teresa out with a torn meniscus, score hell's angels! halftime was grim as bears' coach Mike Ditka tried to inspire his team with a well placed Viagra ad. 3rd quarter, things look dark, Tom Brady attempts to throw a touchdown and NO! he over deflated his ball and it felt like a flaccid penis! Sacagawea picks it up and TOUCHDOWN FLAKES! 4th quarter, things were desperate, tie game at the 2 minute warning, the league substitutes their secret weapon: WOLVERINE! he unleashed his tornado claw, but he missed and Santa Christ was struck: "FORGIVE ME, FATHER! ME KNWOS NOT WHAT HE DOES!". and so, it was that the prophecy came to pass and Santa Christ fell, and there was a clap of lightning and wolverine screamed "NOOOOOOOO!!!!". and lo, 3 seconds later, Santa Christ rose again and filled himself with awesomeness, bears' quarterback Jim McMahon snaps his arm back but NO!! Hitler forces a pummel knocking it into the hands of Walter Peyton who shouts "HELL MARY, SANTA CHRIST!", and he throws the ball to the End Zone while Santa Christ is still rising from the dead!!!  and lo, the skies opened up, the sun did shine, the angels rang out on a glorious hallelujah, as Santa Christ caught the ball with the hairs of his prehensile beard. and yea, there was much rejoicing for man and dinosaur. the bears did do the super bowl shuffle. so, the great console wars had ended. as for the CDI, it disappeared and faded into total obscurity, never to be heard from again except in top 10 worst lists and YouTube videos showcasing really crappy Zelda footage. look up "CDI Zelda Cutscenes", your soul will be hilariously crushed. Satan returned to hell and assumed the form of Michael Eisner, running a direct-to-video scheme for the Walt Disney company while licking his wounds. for his great help in the cosmic super bowl, Santa Christ returned his plesiosaur to the waters of loch ness, where the monster retired and lived a happy live Photobombing Scottish tourists. but as for jolly saint Christ, there was a certain unease. tired and despondent, he returned to his fortress of sucralose and spoke with his heavenly father. "jeffhovah, I have defeated Satan, and yet my heart is troubled, for the kids now have no games to turn to, no consoles to play, no electronics to babysit their fragile little minds..." "ah, b-b-b-b-b-but, the uh answer was always within you, for their was already a console that fulfilled all their needs. something good, something new, not an end but uh a whole new uh beginning." "A GENESIS!" "your instincts are in my awe, my son. go, give them the power of 16 bits, give them the speed of 7.2 MHz CPU, change the console, change the world!". and thus, it came to pass that every Christmas eve, Santa Christ would ride with his 9 narwhals and pass out Sega geneses to all the young girls and boys, lest they never forget what transpired long, long ago, when the world was consumed in the great console war. and, if you listen closely on a dark and starry night, you might be able to hear him with a twinkle in his eye and a belly full of pudding shouting "merry genesis to all, and remember to eat your freaking pancakes!""

well, there it is... don't look at me, I don't think it makes any freaking sense either. ...ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho.

Community content is available under CC-BY-SA unless otherwise noted.