We, All of the Other Reindeer, would like to take a moment to talk about some of the things that you may have heard about us in classic holiday poetry, song and stop-motion animated films. Unfortunately, despite our excellent work in the challenging field of sleighviation, the rumours surrounding that one foggy Christmas Eve and certain events preceding it continue to circulate – aided in no small part by the mainstream media's decision to rehash the unfortunate incident every single year.
We are speaking out now because the entire affair has become a distraction. Not unlike a big red nose shining in your face when you're trying to fly.
All of the Other Reindeer want to express their profound regret if any offence was caused. That was not our intention when we chose to engage with Rudolph the Red-Nosed (it is an unusual trait) Reindeer in what we sincerely believed to be good-natured rivalry that is a tradition in Christmas Town, where you must understand we work on a very tight schedule, one that cannot always accommodate blinking, at a really luminous, blizzard-piercingly bright red nose. I mean, what the hell?
Mistakes were made and, if as a result of some miscommunication, Rudolph the Red-Nosed! Reindeer took umbrage, or serious lower-back injury, when we shoved him down a snowbank and pranced up and down, shouting out (with glee) "Ha! Stupid Shiny Schnozz fell down a hill! Ha-ha-ha!" we apologize.
It was a misunderstanding, one that has unfortunately led to the popular misconception that Santa Claus is entirely reliant upon eight jackass reindeer for his primary mode of transportation.
Quite frankly, the things that are said, you'd think the guy drove a Lexus. We hope this has not caused anyone to lose faith in the trusted Claus brand.
We would also like to state for the record that Mr. Claus has at no point shaken his pipe at us and requested that we issue this apology. We are under no pressure to do this, and six months is a long time to go without carrots.
It is our hope that we can move on from the unfortunate incident – eight flying camels would look really dumb – that was, in fact, a small reindeer's entire childhood, and focus on our important holiday work. It's possible that we were overconfident in our expectation that, when we told Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (he had a very shiny nose) that he couldn't play reindeer hopscotch with us because "who'd want to play with your stupid red nose," he would understand we were just joking, and not cry, hardly the action of a team player.
We certainly did not intend to leave Rudolph (the Red-Nosed and, it should be said, highly imaginative Reindeer) with the impression that he was not free to join in what have been characterized as our "reindeer games," but which were in fact serious reindeer training.
We think it is in poor taste to politicize this issue but are proud to have started a conversation about proboscis diversity in the North Pole region.
All of the Other Reindeer acknowledge the possibility that some of our light-hearted banter may have gone right over Rudolph's head. (Probably to avoid his bioluminescent snout, and who could blame it?)
To be fair, none of us was expecting Santa Claus to show up one foggy Christmas Eve and say, "Rudolph, with your nose so bright, won't you guide my sleigh tonight?" And it's easy to look at this situation, as an outsider, and say, "Oh, then all the reindeer loved him. Then they loved him. How convenient for the reindeer. What lousy brown-nosers those reindeer must be. As soon as Rudolph's non-conformity proved useful to their careers, they were all over him."
This is very hurtful. All of the Other Reindeer are deeply wounded at the suggestion that has been repeatedly made that we are "a bunch of Clockwork Orange caribou," and we are seriously considering retaining elf attorneys. (We think there are elf attorneys; it can't be a less popular career choice than dentistry, and what was that all about anyway?)
Yes, it may look like we were suddenly cozying up to the now-useful and soon-to-be-famous young reindeer we had previously called "Flashbulb Face."
Yes, we shouted out "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, you'll go down in history!" but it was more with concern than glee. We could see Rudolph was headed for big things, and we just wanted to make sure he got in front of the story and that our names were not dragged through the mud.
Mud, incidentally, was the same substance that Rudolph's father, Donner, kindly, used to try to cover his son's (potentially polar-bear-attracting) fancy-pants snout.
Look, you may think you know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen, Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen, but do you really?
Or are you just buying into a media narrative pushed to distract from more pressing issues that somehow go uninvestigated?
The snowman-animating powers of an old felt hat go unquestioned everywhere but for a few dedicated blogs. And yet a group of concerned reindeer, who at one point took the time to draw attention to a nose that is unquestionably a non-heritage colour and, if you ever saw it, you would even say it glows, are forever suspect.
Word is that not every Who down in Whoville liked Christmas a lot, but we never hear about them do we?
Thank you very much for your time. Merry Christmas.