GK: It's the Christmas season and all across America, children are getting excited about Christmas Eve when Santa will drive his sleigh across America, Canada, the British Isles, and other NATO allies, and leave presents for children who support our values. But there is an issue that needs to be worked out first, and like everyone else, Santa goes to a therapist when he needs to work out his issues.

SS: So you're thinking about chimneys, huh?

WB: And about how I got stuck last year. I had my bag full of goodies. And then suddenly I couldn't move. I was trapped. My heart started pounding and I panicked. They told me later I was screaming words that Santa should not use.

SS: Who told you-

WB: The reindeer. They sent down Blitzen after me. (A BEAT) He broke his leg and had to be put down. (A LONG BEAT) I can't talk about this. Sorry.

SS: Claustrophobia is very common, Santa Claus. Especially in a chimney environment.

WB: But I have to do it. All the kiddoes hang their stockings up near the chimney. The chimney or the cold air vent. Oven vent. Anyway I need some sort of medication. Help me over this chimney anxiety.I'm terrified of them. It feels like an MRI machine.

SS: So that's why you lost all the weight--

WB: Went from 280 to 175. Went from a bowlful of jelly to a sensible serving.

SS: So how does that feel?

WB: Terrible. I lost all my product endorsements. No company wants to hire a skinny Santa for commercials so Mrs. Claus and I now have no pension fund whatsoever. I was hoping to retire in a few years. No more. Ixnay on the Florida condo.

SS: What if instead of a threatening thing--you saw the chimney as a big welcoming hug?

WB: Because it's not.

SS: I'm just putting it out there.

WB: It's a long dark hole with hot coals at the end. And what's in it for me? A cookie and a glass of milk. A cookie! Cookies are how I got so big that chimneys were painful.

SS: Okay. Just offering a different perspective.

WB: You ever try taking a tricycle down a chimney? It's no fun, believe me. But it's my duty. You can't leave the presents sitting out on the breast of the new-fallen snow, can you--

SS: Out on the breast of the what?

WB: Nothing. Just...you know...the snow. Anyway, I don't have a lot of good options here.

SS: Maybe you could train the elves to do it. They're the right size.

WB: Oh boy. That's a good one. Ho ho ho ho ho ho. Ever talk to an elf? They're about as smart as a potted plant. Send them down a chimney and I'd have to stand at the window yelling at them what to do.

SS: Well, we've raised some interesting issues. Time is up. See you next week. Or wait a minute, no-- I'm taking off next week. I'll see you in two weeks.

WB: Two weeks and it's all going to be over.

SS: If you have trouble, call me.

WB: I've got no cellphone coverage up there.

SS: Well, do the best you can.

WB: That's all you can do for me? How about medication-

SS: Medication isn't recommended if you're operating a sleigh.
WB: Please. Give me some meds. Look--(HE SINGS)

I'm making a list -- I'd sure like some Wellbutrin or Valium. Santa Claus is begging you, please--

SS: I'll see you in two weeks. Oh and --if you're going to bring me that pashmina scarf, I want it in pink.


I'm making a list and asking you twice, Some Percocet would sure be nice.

SS: Okay. I have another patient, Santa.

WB: Who?


WB: Rudolph?


WB: What's going on with him?

SS: Nasal shame.

WB: Oh boy.