So fond am I of last year's Christmas picture of Curry Mendes nearly being mauled by the Santa at the Yankee Clipper, I was going to post it again here. Instead, I've decided to embark on an annual series that explores the darker side of Santa in all its permutations.
Down in the West Village on Friday, we came across an operation churning out multitudes of chocolate Santas of all sizes.
The effect of the sight was some seemingly unholy production in preparation for a Santa clone war.
These elven entities, part Borg, part Terminator, all dark chocolate, rising out of the primordial soup to insinuate themselves into your season of peace, before shifting shape to reap a havoc on your holidaze from which you can't escape. No, you can't.
I dedicate the following yuletide message to Curry Mendes who is moving to LA this weekend. Have a Beary Christmas everyone!
Update: Ok, shortly after having written this post, I realized that that wonked out chocolate factory was Maccarone and what we were seeing was a Paul McCarthy installation.
Update II: Apparantly, them's ain't trees in Santa's arms.