The most ridiculous thing about this ridiculous movie is its conceit that if one becomes a saint, he or she and his or her family and his or her significant other live forever. Let's forget that in order to become a saint, the saint must be dead, and saints don't have significant others. That, for a millennium, Nick has been the Jolly Elf to Fred's Scrooge is never even hinted at! Open on Nick learning how to make toys, then on Fred learning how to run numbers; Nick giving a sick child a dolly, Fred repossessing the dolly, along with the family farm! After a few more such episodes, morph to present-day Fred venting his spleen at Siblings Anonymous as his fellow losers nod in empathy. There, I just wrote a more cohesive storyline than this idiocy!<br /><br />This Santa, who is one "ho, ho, ho, ho, ho" away from a massive coronary, is a neurotic wuss saddled with the Queen of the Harpies, an operation straight out of Mega-Mall Hell, and answers to a Board (huh?) which just gave the Easter Bunny his pink egg. Oh, and his right-hand man is a ditzy blonde in a skin-tight mini-dress and go-go boots. Ho... ho... ho... ho... ho!<br /><br />But what really sent me over the edge was Slam being named #1 on the Naughty List. Shouldn't a Naughty List be reserved for the future Hitlers and Stalins? Children who are the true embodiments of evil? Nope, to Old Sausage-Fingers, a good boy who lashes out because he is unwanted and unloved is the Demon Seed!<br /><br />The nimrods behind Fred Claus should be boiled in their own pudding! Bah!