Months passed. Santa spent the majority of his time gathering raw materials for toy production and watching daytime soaps. Just for grins, Santa would keep track of his purchases and discoveries with a spreadsheet that he created.
"This will help during tax season," Santa chuckled. The great thing about being Santa, everything is written off.*
As Santa was adjusting font sizes and colors, a window popped up.
"There are updates available for this computer," it said.
Santa clicked the window. The computer started downloading software.
"Neat," Santa thought. "It's working out."
Santa continued his spreadsheeting/databasing.
Every few days, Santa's computer would update itself. Everyday, Santa would enter important information into the computer.
Days turned into weeks which melded into months which lead Santa to October. Crunch time.
Santa cursed the day that department stores started prepping for Christmas in October. It totally butted in on his and Ms. Claus' Halloween fun. (This last Halloween, Santa went as Hugh Hefner and Ms. Claus went as a bunny. True story.)
Throughout October, Santa began building templates for lists of children:
Children who were good
Children who were bad
Children who were good last year who are now bad
Children who were bad last year who are now good
Children without parents
Children who have siblings
Children who have no siblings
Children who have pets
Children who are twins
Children who go to inner-city schools who have overcome huge obstacles despite society
And all other things vital to determining how many presents, if any, a child deserves.
In November, Santa researched all the hot new toys and gadgets for the following holiday season. He made more lists.
Then, December came 'round the bend. And Santa was ready.
He put names into lists. He spell-checked them twice. He was filing and editing who was naughty and nice. Santa Claus was fully online.
He'd cross names out when the presents were made and labeled and put in proper places. He'd move kids around from list to list. He'd have incoming messages from children go to one folder and messages from family members go to another folder. As for spam? He'd put those people on his very-naughty list.
Santa was amazed at what all he could do with the awesome machine.
Until it froze.
...
*Santa doesn't pay taxes. After all, you can't fill in the number forms on a tax form with "cookies" and "glasses of milk."
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