The end for Santacon isn’t anything new. To describe it briefly, it’s like the pre-game party for the folks who consider Halloween to be their “big night out." You dress up as Santa, meet up at some spot early in the morning and get your drunk on while merrily using the holiday as an excuse to relive whatever stupid shit you pulled when you were 16 and drank Midori thinking it was what you did when folks talked about drinking liquor.

Here’s the thing that burns me up: most parents see a Satantango of Santa they know shit’s about to go down. But when a kid looks over and sees Santa, their natural reaction is that of joy. After all, if Santa’s out of the mall then he’s clearly sending out presents. Watching a group of kids ask to pose with a drunk Santa is more fucked up than funny if it isn’t Biilly Bob Thorton.

So, watching a bunch of Santas toke up and drink while walking around kids at a kid event at the National Zoo is more fucked up than the line I overheard last week at Santacon NYC walking down Park Avenue ("Baby! Baby! I didn’t know it wasn’t you! I didn’t mean to give him a handy! He had your beard on! I’d never cheat on you!")