Snideties: A Very Scary Christmas

Roll over, Billy Bob. Meet the original Bad Santa. Krampus, abductor and consumer of small children.

Krampus is a demon from Alpine folklore in Austria and Switzerland. Now, these nations gave us sachertorte and Toblerone. Anschluss and neutrality. Klee and Klimt and Jung and Freud. One has to give their folklore its due. But this Krampus thing is horrifying. It has goat hooves and huge antelope-worthy horns growing out of its skull. Its dentition resembles that of the evil clown in the movie It, and its tongue would put Gene Simmons to shame. Krampus is a scary-ass demon who stalks your neighborhood wielding a birch switch and toting a giant murse, into which it crams naughty children to snack on later. If one craves this kind of symmetry, Krampus serves as a counterpoint to Santa, evil to good, dark to the light. How you behave during the year determines whether your December visitor will be a jolly old man or a devil from Hell.

Alpine children are exposed to Krampus at a young age through the yearly Krampuslauf - literally, Krampus Walk. Village folk, mostly strapping young guys, wear disturbingly realistic Krampus costumes and march down the streets, terrifying kids, teasing cute young women and smacking folks with their switches. In order to ensure that their Krampii are sufficiently impressive, some villages actually audition them and have a 6 foot height minimum. The Krampuslauf takes place around December 5th, St. Nicolas Day, and the parade usually includes a Santa or two. I'm going to have to add it to my bucket list.

Now, it seems Americans are discovering Krampus. Philadelphia just held its first Krampuslauf and similar parades are cropping up across the country. (If this is the beginning of an Alpine culture movement, may I suggest we bring back fondue. I'll also take a secret Swiss bank account, but I'm voting "No" on Lederhosen).

I get the naughtiness of subverting a family holiday. I realize folks like to push against the constraints of happy smiling earnest cornball Christmas. Some people have taken to celebrating the Seinfeldian holiday Festivus (Must say it: For the rest of us). Others are members of the Santarchy/Santacon movement, in which legions of Santas descend upon a town, swarm its watering holes and act like elves (and a few trolls) on a Christmas cookie sugar high. I was in San Francisco during Santacon and the streets were red with bar hopping Santas. They seemed mostly well behaved, but then it was only 6 pm.

Still, I question the need for Krampus. I can't speak for religious people, but I suspect the Satanic imagery doesn't jive with a holy night. I seem to recall that Jesus liked little children, and not in a stew pot way. I imagine he and Krampus wouldn't get along. I myself have two children (In fact, my now adult daughter sent me the Krampus article linked to above). I can tell you from personal experience that to kids younger than 5, realistic masks are scary even if your mommy puts one on right in front of you. Heck, I once had to leave a puppet show because my daughter couldn't handle the troll in The Billy Goats Gruff. The holidays are about family, and warmth, and love, and charity, and lights a-twinkle everywhere. For kids, at least those whose parents are employed, it's a magical time. Why ruin their mellow? It's bad enough that we need to tell young children about bad strangers, for their own good. Do we really want to have to reassure our little ones that Krampus won't eat them?

While a Krampuslauf provides a nifty excuse for young males to party and get devilish, there's a subtext to this Krampus business. In the article my daughter sent me, a distillation of a story on NPR, the reporter interviews a woman who plans to fashion herself a Krampus costume from dozens of rib bones and wear it to a Krampuslauf. And she's a middle aged mom, not a hard-partying, 22 year old bro. Like the other Krampus fans interviewed for the news story, she sees the creature as an antidote for the icky side of Christmas, the carols in October, shopping frenzies and excessive sentimentality.

I understand the urge to escape the relentless seasonal corniness, but I think there may also be a therapeutic aspect to Krampuslauf. Maybe a hairy, long-horned devil is just what people need to combat their own holiday demons. Think about the folks for whom Thanksgiving and Christmas are dysfunction fests. Greek tragedies. Third-rate sitcoms. Overpopulated Sartrian Hells. Imagine you have to dig really deep to view certain relatives with empathy. Maybe you need to hit the egg nog before you can view them at all. And yet you feel bound to these people who make you crazy, and besides, they can't help themselves, and you're no prize yourself, and you have to get your holiday attitude on.

Krampus provides perspective. That blast of demonic anarchy is like a reset button that makes your family appear kinder, gentler and yes, less insane. And in this time of strange politics, environmental catastrophes, freakish weather, protests, revolutions, layoffs and economic instability, perhaps only the craziness of a Krampuslauf can make normal life look normal.

One man's first hand encounter with the Kramposse

Another Krampus victim speaks out