Bad Mall Santa Da-da hasn't been writing much about being Bad Mall Santa Da-da as it went from funny novelty to soul-numbing grind pretty quickly. Forcing yourself to be jolly when you're dead tired and way weary of kiddie materialism -- AND sick as a dog from all the childhood diseases genuflecting through your beard -- not to mention being pooped on and peed on and barfed on and sneezed on, was more than even a veteran Man Called Da-da could bear, but bear it he did. It was terrible UNTIL Santa Da-da suddenly realized that, not only were these not his kids, but Santa Da-da had already turned that parenting corner and never had to go back! No more diapers! No more projectile vomit! No more bodily excretions flying all over the place! Well, unless you sign up to be a Bad Mall Santa Da-da.
[Read Bad Mall Santa Da-da #5, or SING the Bad Mall Santa Da-da theme song!]
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