Good Vibrations Magazine

Beside the reservoir that is next to the ocean in Newport Rhode Island there is a house. There is nothing exceptional about this house. But every Christmas season it becomes a destination for parents and their children. Standing on the beach you can see its lights burning bright.

There’s Santa and reindeer and elves and blow up snowmen and Disney characters playing out scenes in Plexiglas boxes and an elaborate Nativity. The sheer size of it was daunting, lights crawling up every inch of the two-story house, a sizable front yard completely covered in Christmas lawn art. No matter how cold it was the kids never ante to leave.

It was rather boring for parents, however. After the initial shock of it all there was really nothing to look at. So I wondered what an adult Christmas scene would look like. What would happen if Good Vibrations were to set up a Christmas scene in Union Square?

The scene would begin with a tree with a host of presents from Good Vibrations underneath, dildos, vibrators, instructional videos, harnesses, Charlie Glickman wearing nothing but a big red ribbon and bow.

Walking up the first set of stairs you’d come to the reindeer.  They’d be set in poses of frolicking, except for Rudolph. He’d be over there beside Mrs. Claus. She’d be lying on her back, poofy Christmas skirts lifted above her waist.

Rudolph would have his face buried between her thighs, a mechanical up and down motion moving his head. Then his nose would light up red and Mrs. Claus would let out a giggle and give a mechanical squirm.

Just a little uncomfortable you walk on only to encounter Hermey, the little blond elf who would rather be a dentist. Next to him you’d find Yukon Cornelius, the burly bear of a man who spends lots of time alone in the great north. Next to him would be Bumble, the abominable snowman of stop action fame.

The three of them would be lying back in a big pile of fluff, one arm behind their heads. The three of them would be masturbating, monster, man and boy, a kind of Mo-Nambla.

Even I am uncomfortable at this point. Let’s turn back and see what’s on the other side of this sprawling scene.

Walking past Rudolph’s red nose we’d see an unexpected thing, The Grinch; thigh high, high heel leather boots, a corset pulled tight, a flogger in each hand; this Grinch is smiling.

And there would be the Who’s with their little upturned cupie doll hair, the whole town of Whoville lined up before the Grinch, bending over. His mechanical arm would swing the flogger, a mechanical floor bringing the Who’s before him one by one.

Walking up the other set of stairs we’d find Santa’s Elves diligently working way making all kinds of sex toys, pouring silicone into molds, cutting leather into strips.

Behind them we’d find another set of elves, the slackers. We’d find these elves in a train with their britches around their ankles and their hands on one another’s hips. They’d move in snyc to the music of Jingle Bells, plowing in with every jingle and pulling out with every bell.

And there’d be Santa, finally Santa, sitting up in his sleigh, watching his elves with his big old jolly grin and polar bear-like beard. That wide patent leather belt of his would be undone and that big old Santa schlong would be hanging out for all to see.

He’d move his head from side to side while his hand moved up and down. And then he’d go “Ho-Ho-Ho” and boom, shoot pure white snow from his Santa schlong. The elves would be playing in the snow.

Desperate to take a shower you’d walk up the last set of stairs, ready to escape, when you’d come upon the Nativity scene. There’s little baby Jesus with his little tiny toes, just sitting in the manger with his big old Messianic balls. Cause you have to have big balls to be a Messiah.

There’d be the three wise men carrying their gifts, a bottle of lube, a set of birth control pills, and a bottle of penicillin.

There’d be Mary, smiling angelically at her little baby. But Joseph would have his head in his hands. A recorded voice would play.

“It’s alright Mary. We agreed to be Poly. You don’t have to say it was god. We can be open and free with our love. We don’t need East Coast lies like Immaculate Conception.

“I’m not bothered that Jesus isn’t my baby. It’s that you’re lying to me. Poly means being honest. Poly means one of us is always swallowing our emotional pain. I’m swallowing. See? It’s all right Mary. We agreed to be Poly. “

I know there’s a donkey somewhere in the Nativity but I won’t even mention it. That’d be over the line.

Merry Christmas Goyim.