Naughty Santa Quotes

He punished the naughty and rewarded the nice. Just like someone else who wore a lot of red. Scramble the letters in S-A-N-T-A and you get S-A-T-A-N.

Smile like your name tops Santa's naughty list.

The suit, the power, the 'he sees you when you're sleeping' thing. There's something kind of hot about the thought of Santa just sitting by the fire, watching you sleep, deciding if you're naughty or nice.

He has ultimate faith in our capacity for redemption, no matter how naughty we’ve been. Through his legend of stealth generosity, he teaches us that if you look for a way to bring wonder to others, you’ll find it.

You keep this fine ass covered and cozy until I strip you bare and fuck it. Understood?

This ain't my first Santa rodeo.

I guess 'Santa Baby' has a whole new meaning this year.

I, for one, am glad you didn't let your hatred of Christmas get in the way your Santa kink.

Nikhilananda’s birthday. Maybe we’d Morris dance, naked, around the base of an old-growth California redwood, its branches lavishly festooned with the soiled hammocks and poop buckets of crunchy-granola tree sitters mentoring spotted owls in passive-resistance protest techniques. You get the picture. In place of Santa Claus, my mom and dad said Maya Angelou kept tabs on whether little children were naughty or nice. Dr. Angelou, they warned me, did her accounting on a long hemp scroll of names, and if I failed to turn my compost I’d be sent to bed with no algae. Me, I just wanted to know that someone wise and carbon neutral—Dr. Maya or Shirley Chisholm or Sean Penn—was paying attention. But none of that was really Christmas. And none of that Earth First! baloney helps out once you’re dead and you discover that the snake-handling,

In conclusion, the death of Christ was not about God the Father needing to vent His rage and fury upon a sacrificial victim in order to appease Himself. It was not about the Father needing to crush someone in the place of humanity so that, on the other side of the crushing He could be pleased with, and relational towards us. It was not about a sacrificial system which God originally instituted, but later decided was incapable of satisfying His needs. It was about the entire Trinity destroying and putting to death the alien entity of sin, the “devil’s work”(1 John 3: 18), in order to save us from its corrupting influence. It was done so that on the other side of the Cross, we would see and understand what man had lost sight of after partaking of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. It was to reveal to us that our God is not a cosmic Santa Claus who is making a list, checking it twice, and who will ultimately repay both the naughty and the nice. Our God is Love, and has only ever been seeking to reveal that love to us. He was never out to “get us”, but to rescue us from the consequences of our own decisions. Sin did not change God, and the Cross was not the means by which He reset Himself back to His factory settings. Sin changed us, and it therefore needed to be destroyed so that we could behold the unchangeable nature of our God of love. The Cross was the ultimate, climactic demonstration of the Godhead’s love for the human race, not the crude display of a deified version of human justice. It was Eternal Love Himself, stepping into our problem, absorbing it into Himself and dying in order to put it to death. It was heroic, self-giving, sacrificial justice.

AT&T was on ‘Santa’s 2020 Naughty List’.

presented her slender back

grabbed by the shoulders and shook her. “Don’t leave me,” she murmured in a hoarse voice, without opening her eyes. “Don’t leave me,

I need some time for the rest. I just don’t take something like marriage lightly. If I do it, I’ll mean it, and I won’t change my mind. But I think you’d do it right now for all the wrong reasons.” “Does this have anything to do with the guy you didn’t let stay last night?” he asked. “My boyfriend?” she asked, smiling. She knew it was naughty to taunt him like that; she wasn’t thinking of T.J. as a boyfriend at the moment. “It would be nice of me to tell him if things change in my personal life. But until I have matters settled…” “No, Franci, tell him matters are settled. You won’t be dating him!” “And the woman who keeps calling you?” “What woman?” he asked. “Your phone keeps picking up text messages and voice mails. That has to be a woman.” He took a deep breath. This didn’t seem like a good time to lie, just as he was trying to close a deal. “I dated this girl a few times back at Beale and I told her I wasn’t getting into a steady thing. When I went on leave, I told her we had to cool it because it wasn’t working for me, but she’s deaf. I thought when I left town for a couple of months she’d let it go, but she’s hounding me. I’m going to call her, Franci, and tell her I’m off the market. That I’m getting married. She won’t call anymore. Now, come on.” “Poor thing,” Franci said. “She might be as sick in love with you as I was.” “As you were?” he asked, a little frightened of the answer. “And I said I’m not marrying you.” “Okay, let me get this right—I suggested marriage and you said no?” “How about that? What a shocker, huh?” “Well, what the hell am I supposed to do? I thought that’s what I should do!” “Okay, you still don’t get it. We don’t want to because you’re doing what you should. Listen carefully, Sean. I want you to be absolutely sure you want to commit to a life with me and Rosie, because you don’t have to marry me to have time with your daughter. She’s your daughter—I won’t get in the way of that. Though I have to admit, the way you suggested marriage really just knocked me off my feet.” He would never admit it to anyone, but her refusal gave him an instant feeling of relief. He wasn’t ready to take it all on. But it would sure make things tidier if they could just do it the way it probably should be done. He slid close to her and, before she could protest, pulled her right up against him. “You wanna get knocked off your feet, sweetheart? Because we both know we do that to each other.” He put a big hand around the back of her neck and ran his thumb from her earlobe to the hollow of her throat. Then he kissed that spot. “I want you with me, Franci. Tonight, and from now on.” “Sean,” she said gravely, “when you rejected me four years ago, there were times I wondered if I’d lost my mind and my heart. The things we said to each other—I don’t want to risk a marriage like that. After we split and I moved to Santa Rosa, sometimes I grieved so badly I worried that I was hurting the baby with endless crying, sleepless nights, loss of appetite. I just can’t face something like that again.” He ran a knuckle across her soft cheek. “Baby, I didn’t reject you. I wanted to be with you—I just had a hang-up with marriage.” “Well, now the shoe’s on the other foot. Suck it up.” Life

on a snatch and grab assignment to

Just after a krampus that people had spotted in the area.” That got my attention. “A krampus? You’re sure?” Petra nodded. “I saw it walking down the road, swinging its chains around. Those fucking horrific bell things were making noise. You can’t really mistake a krampus for anything else.” In mythology, a krampus was a sort of anti-Santa. It would spirit away the naughty boys and girls to its lair. What it did with them is open to interpretation; some say it drowned the children and ate them, while some suggested it just kept them until they behaved and then brought them back. In most instances the truth is quite far removed from reality, but in the case of the krampus, truth and reality weren’t all that dissimilar. Krampus don’t care one way or the other about the behavior of the children they steal. They take children back to their lairs and feast on their souls, tossing the corpse of the child into a nearby stream or river when they finish. Unlike animals that need to hibernate during the winter, krampus only feed during the coldest months of the year, before vanishing once spring arrives. Before the tenth century, there were hundreds of the bastards running around, although nearly all of them were killed after it was made illegal to create them. Like most of the truly horrific creations in the world, krampus were made using dark blood magic. At one point, they’d been human, although once the magic had finished with them, any glimmer of humanity had been extinguished. They were considered a crime against magic, and their creation was punishable by death. Apparently, someone was unconcerned about the possibility of such things, if he or she had taken the time and effort to make a krampus and unleash it on the town of Mittenwald.

A beautiful young woman wants to meet Santa Claus, so she puts on a robe and stays up late on Christmas Eve. Santa arrives, climbs down the chimney, and begins filling the stockings. He is about to move on to the next house when the gorgeous redhead says in a sexy voice, “Oh, Santa, please stay. Keep the chill away.” Santa replies, “HO HO HO, gotta go, gotta go. Gotta get the presents to the children, you know.” The girl drops her robe to reveal a sexy bra and panties, and says in her most flirtatious tone, “Oh, Santa, don’t run a mile; just stay for a while...” Santa begins to sweat but replies, “HO HO HO, gotta go, gotta go. Gotta get the presents to the children, you know.” The girl takes off her bra and says, “Oh, Santa... please... stay.” Santa wipes his brow but replies, “HO HO HO, gotta go, gotta go. Gotta get the presents to the children, you know.” She loses the panties and says, “Oh, Santa... please... stay....” Santa, trembling, says, “HEY HEY HEY, gotta stay, gotta stay! Can’t get up the chimney with my pecker this way!!!

I wasn’t getting along with Trouble and for good reason. He strolled over and made a snide remark. “Patches,” he meowed, “why do you look so worried? Has Santa got you on the Naughty List this year? Oh, look, someone left some muddy shoes by the back door. Meowr.” “GRmpf.” I snarled. “Oh. And is this a Patch-of-mud on the doormat?” mewed Trouble. “Look, Cat,” I said, “My status with Santa is a private affair. Someone with a name like yours shouldn’t be pointing paws!” “That’s so. That’s so,” he purred. “Pointing paws usually lead to flying fur and the need for hair ex-ten-sions.” Trouble did say things that made sense sometimes, in a weird sort of way. (He was trying to mes-mer-ize me with those purrs, but it wouldn’t work). “Purr--cise-ly. Oh, uh-hum, I meant to say, pre-cise-ly,” I growled, “So let’s drop the subject.” Then he PURRED at me.

So, you're the Santa Claus of the magic world with a naughty and nice list?

Merry Ball... Jingle all the way- come inside and suck your way to Santa's naughty list..

Fred Claus, a movie that came out a few years ago, is the story of Santa’s long-lost brother. Fred is in trouble and needs financial help, so he calls his brother Nick at the North Pole. Nick says, “Well, I’ll give you the help you need if you’ll come and work with me this Christmas.” Fred, who is desperate, agrees. Santa puts him to work at a specific task: determining whether children have been naughty or nice. We’re familiar with the routine, right? The naughty children don’t receive

You, Santa Claus, want to take me into your sleigh and set me down right on your dick?

There is a 50 percent chance that Santa slapped my ass while I screamed about how naughty I’ve been this year. Wow.” “That did really happen. It was awesome.” A smile lit up her face. “Yeah?” “Yes.

For all my Ho Ho Ho’s who made the naughty list and wished that Hallmark movies came with spice. XO, Santa

But, this man looked like if Santa played rugby and chopped wood in his spare time. His chest was broad and his thighs were thick. And holy shit he was sporting quite the cockstand. Yep.

There is a 50 percent chance that Santa slapped my ass while I screamed about how naughty I’ve been this year. Wow.” “That did really happen. It was awesome.” A smile lit up her face. “Yeah?” “Yes.” She was now standing just in front of him. Mischief dancing in her eyes. “You wanna do it again?

Well, fuck Santa,” her lips twitched, “you must be on the naughty list.

can it really be beneficial to accept a myth as truth?  Can one really live a happy, successful, and meaningful life dedicated to a false story, or to a lie?  Take the case of Santa Claus.  This story may be useful to keep naughty little children in line, but it ‘works’ only because of their ignorance and naiveté.  Even if we could keep up the charade for years, would it be ethical to do so?  Surely not; ultimately it would lead to terrible outcomes.  And if there were a whole society of Santa-believers, can we envision them leading a truly good life?  Of course not.  It should be self-evident that a life based on self-deception or falsehood can never turn out well.

I’ll never understand how they could waste perfectly good food on a strange man breaking into your home to check on little kids who bribes them with toys. Santa should totally be on the sex offender registry, a naughty list of his own making, if he’s not already. Just my two cents. The creepy fuck.

Think of us like her pussy’s personal Santa Claus. And hopefully, Samantha wants to be a very naughty girl.

I'm a naughty Santa and I need a sleigh to ride...

If you think about it, Santa Claus is a little like Batman. He's a vigilante.

What kind of Daddy would I ask for if I knew Santa would bring him to me on Christmas Eve?

Grace is not simply a “hiding” away of sin – or even a mere forgiveness of your sinfulness. Grace is not just a cover up – as if God the great Santa Clause in the sky is covering His eyes from your wrongdoings – acting as if they don’t exist. He’s not choosing to put you on the “nice” list when you deserve the “naughty” list. Grace does not hide God’s eyes from your sinfulness. That’s what we’ve been taught – but the true Gospel is far better. Grace actually eradicates sinfulness itself. It’s not a cover up – instead it’s an absolute removal of your old heart. Grace is not a freedom to sin, but it is freedom from sin. On the cross, your sinfulness itself was destroyed in His death. Your old sinful self was co-crucified together with Christ. Grace mystically transformed your identity from a sinner to a saint. There’s no mixture left. Grace does not merely “cut you slack” while leaving you with indwelling sinfulness. Grace fully nailed that “indwelling sinfulness” to the tree – your entire old corrupt nature was abolished as a free gift (Rom. 6, Gal. 2:20). What I am saying is that there is nothing left for you to do, but simply be who you are – that perfect new you who is one spirit with the Lord (1 Cor. 6:17). It should be more difficult to sin than to manifest the true holy you. Now your chief end is to glorify God simply by enjoying Him forever. As John Piper often says, “God is most glorified in you when you are most satisfied in Him.

I was sneakin' down the stairs on Christmas Eve, Heard a jingle, thought I couldn't believe. There was Santa in my living room, Dancin' with my wife, under the mistletoe bloom. (Chorus) Oh, Santa, Santa, what are you doin' here? Dancin' with my wife, spreading Christmas cheer. Santa, Santa, you better think twice, Before you end up on the naughty list tonight. (Verse 2) He had his red suit on, boots so shiny bright, Twirl'd her 'round the tree, in the twinkling light. I stood there in shock, couldn't believe my eyes, Santa Claus was stealin' my wife, oh what a surprise! (Chorus) Oh, Santa, Santa, what are you doin' here? Dancin' with my wife, spreading Christmas cheer. Santa, Santa, you better think twice, Before you end up on the naughty list tonight. (Bridge) He winked at me and said, "Don't you worry, man, I'm just here to spread joy, it's part of the plan." But I grabbed my phone, took a quick snap, Now Santa's famous for his holiday mishap. (Chorus) Oh, Santa, Santa, what are you doin' here? Dancin' with my wife, spreading Christmas cheer. Santa, Santa, you better think twice, Before you end up on the naughty list tonight. (Outro) So if you see Santa, dancin' with your spouse, Just remember he's spreading joy, all through the house. But keep an eye out, and hold your loved ones tight,

We spent the morning watching YouTube videos of some naughty Thunder From Down Under men dressed in Santa costumes, thrusting their way around Santa’s workshop. Had no idea it was a Bawhovier December first tradition, but it sure did put some color in my cheeks.

No need for explanations. I mean, Emanuel Lincoln may have been a sleazeball, but he was not a pedophile until you made him one. You coerced your sixteen-year-old biological daughter into sleeping with him. Didn’t you?” Santa asked.

laughed. “No, the good doctor here injected his once beautiful ex-fiancée with the needle of AIDS-infected blood,” Santa said as if he were a show host.

Cobi: 1:09: Ho, ho, ho. This is Santa Claus. Just sending you this message saying that if you’ve really been nice this Christmas, you’ll respond to my friend Jacobi. And you better not be talking to any other nig.—I mean young men out there. Because I’m watching to see if you’re being naughty. And that’s a very naughty thing to do. Ho. Ho. Ho.

Ouch, I say! Stop slapping me You silly tiny christmas tree You hit me on my back side first It hurt like candy canes and smurfs You hit me in the guts for fun I coughed up snowflakes in the sun You slapped my cheek from left to right Wow, you're strong like Dunder Dwight I blocked your slap, what will you do Nice and naughty Santa says you --Slapping Krampus

You know as well as I do that being Naughty Listed is an extreme punishment, Santa. It’s treason to the season, and I won’t be an accomplice to your hatred.